


All the Broken Pieces

by everythingneedsrevision



Series: Broken Pieces [1]
Category: Hardy Boys - Franklin W. Dixon, Nancy Drew - Carolyn Keene, Nancy Drew/Hardy Boys Super Mysteries - Franklin W. Dixon & Carolyn Keene
Genre: Aftermath of a Case, Case Fic, F/M, Flashbacks, Gen, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Implied/Referenced Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Relationship, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-09 06:11:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 39
Words: 94,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5528972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everythingneedsrevision/pseuds/everythingneedsrevision
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank struggles after a particularly devastating case, one that forever altered his life and that of Callie Shaw. Joe has been at his wit's end trying to help his brother, but even when Frank seems to be improving, he can't help but fear that Frank hasn't gotten better at all. Trying to ease back into working again, the brothers take on what is supposed to be a routine investigation. Their case quickly proves to be much more than it seems, leading them to cross paths again with Nancy Drew.</p><p>Nancy's had her hands full with a case that's very personal to Ned. When it ends badly, they take a trip to help both of them recover from its aftermath. Trouble soon finds them, and when Nancy witnesses a murder, it almost becomes a double homicide. The police want Nancy in protective custody, but she has her own ideas about this case, and since the police aren't willing to let her follow up on them, she needs help from Frank and Joe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Worries and Guilt

**Author's Note:**

> So recently I came across Nancy Drew/Hardy Boys fanfiction again, and it rekindled my interest in the supermysteries. After rereading the ones I owned and diving into more fanfic, I rummaged through my notebooks until I found an idea and partial start I'd had for a fic.
> 
> I started rewriting it, and the idea has diverted from what it was when I first envisioned it. I hope it's still a good one, though I don't know, as I am a very poor judge of my own writing. Still, it's the first fanfic I've done in a while and the first one I've attempted to post in this fandom.
> 
> Also, I should say I don't hate Callie, and she didn't deserve what happened to her, but it was essential to the plot. As another disclaimer... while I liked the idea of Ned/Nancy in the yellow books and think they were adorable in the last movie version of Nancy Drew, the supermysteries and a few other things made me love the idea of Frank/Nancy. So... while there is Ned/Nancy in this, it's part of the plot, but it's not where things would end in my ideal world. Just a fair warning, though I don't know that there will be any overt Frank/Nancy in this, either. I don't see them as having a quick path to romance even if Ned and Callie weren't there, though I'd be lying if I said the original version of this wasn't intended for just that purpose: bringing Frank and Nancy together.
> 
> I've changed and matured since I created the idea, and I hope the idea has, too, so this should be more of a gen case fic with things to squint at, if anything.
> 
> And, I admit, with the horrors I pictured in my head, I kind of scared myself, even though I have no intention of putting all of them on paper and posting them. I glossed over things and went straight to the aftermath and will likely only visit the subject in short flashbacks.

* * *

“It's not your fault, you know.”

Frank ignored the words. He'd heard them over and over, even tried to say them to himself, but he couldn't believe them. They were hardest to take from Joe, of all people, as he didn't accept them himself, even after all the time that had passed since the bombing. He was no more capable of forgiving himself for that than Frank was this, so why should he listen to Joe now?

He drew in a breath and let it out again. He didn't try and argue the words—he had no interest in fighting with his brother. Not now. He didn't want to fight with anyone.

“You... are going to come out of your room sometime, right?”

Frank thought of all the logical reasons why he should, all the arguments he would make if the situation were reversed. He didn't have to think too hard—he'd already made most of them before, pleading with friends, family, even suspects to see why going on was important, why it still mattered to move forward and keep working.

That changed nothing. He hadn't moved in hours, hadn't left the house in almost a month, and he didn't remember the last time he'd eaten.

“She's not dead, Frank,” Joe reminded him, reaching over to touch his arm.

“She might be better off if she were,” Frank said, and when Joe couldn't find a way to answer that, he left the room without another word.

* * *

“I have to do something,” Joe said, wishing he was having this conversation in person, not sneaking around to make it out of everyone else's hearing. Honestly, he'd be _glad_ if Frank interrupted, if he overheard, if _something_ could get to his brother in his current state. It wasn't like Frank to be like this, shutting down, letting nothing but the emotions rule him, the _guilt,_ but he was lost in it, more so than Joe had ever been. “He's almost completely shut down. It's not like him. He's always the one who forces himself to think through situations, to keep moving—he doesn't stop.”

“And you think this time he has?”

“I _know_ he has,” Joe muttered, shaking his head as he wanted to shake some sense into someone. Maybe more than one. “He won't leave his bed. He doesn't do anything, just sits there. He's aware enough to respond things, and he does, but he's not... he's not working. He's not researching. He doesn't do _anything.”_

“Joe—”

“The guilt is killing him. It's like he just gave up on everything. He made me go on after Iola, but he's not, and she's not even dead.”

“That may be part of the problem. Callie still has to live with what they did to her, and it will never go away. He has to live with being the cause of all that pain.”

“Frank didn't do that to her,” Joe snapped, losing his temper. He smacked a hand into the siding on the house, frustrated. He didn't know why that was so hard for any of them to understand. “He didn't know that they were going to take her—he fought hard to get her back—”

“Do you think Iola's death was your fault?”

Joe winced. “I—That's different. She's dead, and she died in a bomb meant for me.”

“Callie was taken, held hostage, tortured, and as good as brainwashed all as a part of revenge against Frank. What they put her through was horrific, and your brother blames himself for every minute of it, every second and every change this forced on her. Worse, he was a part of those changes.”

Joe winced. “He didn't know.”

“No one knew,” the voice on the other end gentled, “but that doesn't make it any less true. They set him up to trigger her conditioned responses. She did things she can't undo, and she did them seemingly on Frank's encouragement. She even did some of them _to_ him. She can't face him. He can't face her.”

Joe leaned back against the house. Closing his eyes, he rubbed his head. The ache was nothing new. “None of this seems real. It shouldn't be. Can't be.”

“I could start a debate with you over the reality of brainwashing and how it has been disputed by experts over the years, but that won't help. The unarguable fact remains that Callie was subjected to extreme mental trauma, and that damaged her in ways that... that will always linger. She was altered. The person you knew...”

“She's still there,” Joe said. “Enough to fool Frank, at least. Or she was.”

“And she probably is. What she did was a result of what she endured. She's strong to have survived it at all, and that is what everyone has to be grateful for—though expecting her to be as she was before or Frank to be okay with what happened—that's a bit much.”

“I know,” Joe said. He sighed. “I have to do something, though. This isn't like Frank.”

“Are you kidding, Joe? You know your brother. You know how he feels about the people he loves, about what he would do for them, and how he feels when he can't. There is no quick fix to what happened.”

“Frank isn't trying to fix it. He's shutting himself off and shutting down.”

“In some ways, that may seem the more logical response. If Frank doesn't do any detective work, if he's not close to anyone, if he stays away... Then he won't get anyone else hurt, won't be the cause of the pain, not like he was with Callie.”

“Callie doesn't blame him.”

“Yes, but she's still terrified of him, isn't she?”

Joe grimaced. He wanted to deny it, but it was true—being around Frank set off the worst of Callie's PTSD _and_ her fears that he might trigger her into some other thing she didn't want to do—or that she'd try and kill him again.

“It's still not his fault.”

“I know.”

“What do we do? How do we get Frank to see he can't go on like this?”

“It's Frank. He already knows.”

* * *

“You showered.”

“Don't sound like it's the end of the world or the second coming, Joe,” Frank said, not looking at his brother as he opened the fridge. He wasn't hungry, still had no appetite, but he did not know that he could continue as he had been. He hadn't been the same since that horrible night when Callie—

He winced, forcing the memories from his mind. He didn't want to think about that night, about how far things had gone, how he could have killed her in his efforts to stop her. He almost had. He willed himself not to shudder, knowing Joe would see it.

“It's just... not like you. Not these days.”

Frank shrugged. “It was time.”

“It was time?” Joe repeated dubiously. He stared at Frank in shock, almost letting his mouth hang open after the words.

“Would you rather it wasn't?” Frank countered, taking out the supplies he would need for a sandwich. Nothing too complicated, nothing that would upset his stomach after so long between meals. He didn't know how else to go forward. A part of him still didn't want to, but his war with the logical reasons had been lost.

“No,” Joe admitted as he came closer. “Look, Frank, I know I've been pushing a lot, but I don't know that you can just... flip a switch and be back to normal.”

“I never said I was.” Frank put the bread on top of his sandwich and looked at it, telling himself he was able to eat it. “You tried a case a few days ago. Is it still... open?”

Joe shook his head. “No way. You don't go from staring at the walls like a vegetable to fully functioning in less than an hour.”

“I'm not,” Frank said. “I don't know that I can eat this sandwich I just made, it took me all day to convince myself to get in the shower and even after I was in it, I almost didn't clean anything... Just do us both a favor and quit trying to tell me I shouldn't be ready for this. Not only do I already know, but I don't need another reason to go back to where I was. It's already too tempting to do just that.”

“I... Okay.”

* * *

“Frank pulling himself out of his room isn't a bad thing, Joe.”

Joe sighed, knowing the phone was good enough to carry that across the line. “It's not like I don't know that. I do. I just... He's not ready. I know he's not. No one does that kind of turnaround, not really. He can't be too traumatized and guilt-stricken to function one minute and up and asking for a case the next. He showered and ate and says he's not okay, which is true, but he's still...”

“...Trying?”

Joe frowned. “I'm not sure that's the right word for it.”

The voice on the other end was almost amused. “You know what word has always described both of you? Tenacious. That's what the Hardy boys are. When Frank sets his mind on something, he doesn't quit. So if he has made the decision that he's coming back from this, then he will do it with the same stubborn determination that you two face everything with.”

“Something's wrong. First he breaks down and now he's fine?”

Hesitation carried a sigh across the line in the other direction this time. “When Iola died, you had revenge to chase, didn't you?”

“Yeah, but Frank got his revenge when Callie was rescued. They were all captured or...” Joe trailed off, not wanting to think about that, either. Frank could have killed someone—Joe had been there after Iola died, had wanted the same thing—and the investigation into what happened still hadn't proved that no one had died at Frank's hands, not for sure.

That must have been eating at Frank, too, though he hadn't let anything get to him until all the weird stuff with Callie happened. He'd been so focused on helping her recover, on making everything up to her, and it almost seemed to be working until that night...

Joe shook his head. “There's no one left to get revenge against.”

“No one to blame but himself.”

That was half the problem. “What if this new determination to get out of bed isn't some kind of—it's not going to be him trying to get himself killed now that he's realized that he can't just slowly wane away, is it?”

“You'll be with him. You can watch out for him. It's what you do.”

Joe nodded. He had that much as a consolation, but it wasn't much. “I wish you were here.”

Nancy let a tense moment stretch on before she spoke. “I know.”


	2. Dreams and Unpleasant Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nancy tries to balance her case and concern for others, while Frank and Joe continue to disagree over his progress... or lack thereof.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think there's just a little bit more to set up of the old cases before diving into the larger one that is the plot for this one. I have a tendency to develop novel's worth of alternate universe backstory when trying to create one story, and so I am hoping that I can cover enough of that in a few of these set up scenes and more flashbacks rather than attempt the novels I know I won't complete.

* * *

“Another conversation about Hardy?”

Nancy forced a smile, just glad it was her father asking her and not someone else. Some would give her grief for not rushing off the moment she'd heard about what happened to Frank, back when he was still in the hospital, and others had pushed her to go when she'd heard that Frank had retreated into his room, but as much as everyone and everything seemed to tell her to be there for her friend, she knew that at least one person was annoyed with her since she kept taking calls from Joe at all hours.

Her father came over and put a hand on her shoulder. “You know, for all you keep saying you're too close to the end of this case of yours to stop now, for all it matters to Ned... Maybe you should just take that trip to Bayport.”

She shook her head. “I can't just rush off—and Joe did say that Frank had made progress. He left his room, showered, and asked about a case. Besides, this _is_ important, and not just to Ned. He lost a good friend, but more people could be hurt or die if I stop. I can't.”

“Nancy—”

She ignored the worry in her father's voice. “I _have_ spoken to Frank himself. He was... detached, but he wasn't completely unaware of what was going on. He even offered advice on my case after bullying me into sharing it as a distraction. He was very helpful, actually.”

Carson nodded. “I wouldn't expect anything less from one of the Hardys. They're too much like you—cases before anything else. Still, it seems to be distracting you despite your determination to finish your own case.”

She winced. “I don't...”

“Don't what?”

She ran a hand through her hair. “Ned brought me this case. He begged for my help, and the more it has dragged on, the more Frank—what if something happens to Ned because of me? It has before. It could happen again.”

“You'll do your best to stop it and to see them all through it,” Carson told her, putting a hand on her arm. “Now you might want to get some rest. You need it.”

She smiled for him. “Thanks, Dad.”

* * *

_Callie's eyes were dull, almost sightless, but he knew she could see. He wouldn't be bleeding now if she couldn't. He didn't want to think about that, didn't want to believe it. This wasn't her. She wouldn't do this. Callie wasn't a mean person, not malicious, and she wouldn't have tried to harm anyone—especially not him._

_Even if a certain kiss or two might have meant he deserved it._

_“Callie, don't.”_

_Tears rolled down her cheeks even as she moved forward with the knife in hand. “I have to.”_

_“No, you don't. Something's wrong. Something's making you act this way when I know you wouldn't. This isn't you.”_

_Callie didn't answer. She just struck with the knife again, and though he should have been able to dodge it, he didn't. Pain laced through him, and he finally reacted like he would in any other fight. He took her arm and twisted it, trying to get the knife from her hand. Bones snapped, and someone screamed, and he saw the look of horror on her face._

Frank jerked awake, hand on his side where he'd been stabbed, reminding himself that the pain was in his head, just a phantom, a figment of the fear and paranoia—and the guilt. He took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself and hoping that no one had heard him this time. Waking his family with his nightmares had become routine by now, but he still hated it.

He would have found somewhere else to live if he hadn't figured they'd put him in a psych ward with a suicide watch first. He couldn't say he was proud of his behavior after what happened with Callie, but he hadn't been able to pull himself together as he had in the past. Other times, other crises, he'd managed to focus on what needed to be done and do it, but this time was different. He couldn't explain why—it shouldn't have been. He'd endured worse, seen worse, investigated worse, but somehow this had taken him down.

He supposed it could have been a culmination of everything that had come before, but since when was he so... weak?

“Are you guilt tripping yourself again?”

Frank ran a hand over his face. “How long have you been there, Joe?”

“Long enough,” Joe said, coming into the room. “In case you're wondering—and I don't think you were—”

“I woke you. Sorry.”

Joe snorted. “You could make that sound a bit more believable, you know. That was the weakest sorry I've heard in a long time, and that's with me investigating criminals for a living.”

It was Frank's turn to snort. “We don't actually get paid for that.”

Joe managed a weak smile. “No, we don't, but then if we were in it for the money, we'd be the wrong kind of people for it. It's the thrill of adventure that gets us, right? The chase?”

“The puzzle,” Frank said, since that was what actually drew him in. He was more analytical than Joe, spent his time piecing together the small things and letting them form the whole. It gave him a sense of completion.

Joe took a breath and let it out again. “You want to tell me about it?”

“No point. It's the same as it always is.”

Joe grunted. He came over to the bed and sat down on the edge of it. “You know... it's not really getting any better. You might be moving around now, but... I just... Is it enough?”

Frank didn't usually lie to his brother, and he didn't think he had much of a shot of convincing Joe right now. He shrugged. “This shook me, maybe more than it had a right to, but the only thing I can do now is... try to move forward.”

With a nod, Joe fidgeted. “Gotta admit—you had me worried.”

Frank knew that. He'd been aware of everyone's concern, but it wasn't easy pulling himself back from where he had been. He still wasn't sure what had given him the final push. Not something Joe said, not his father or mother, not his aunt, not a friend... He didn't know that it was a specific moment, but it was over, and he had left his room, started rebuilding his life.

“If you really want, though, we have a case,” Joe said. He held up a hand. “Just a small one. Background check and surveillance. Nothing big, no terrorist threats or espionage or—”

“And you're trying to convince me to take it? Why would I want to?” Frank teased, getting a smile from his brother. Joe just watched him, unsure how to relax. “Easy, little brother. I think something boring and routine is best for now. We don't know how I'll react to anything more stressful, and we can't afford to risk me having a panic attack in a crisis.”

Joe swore. “Damn it. How can you even _say_ that? Like... like it's all rational and logical and fine that you don't know how you'll react in a crisis? Or have a panic attack?”

“I'm being realistic. Post traumatic stress is... It's reality for me now, not that it hasn't been there for us before. It just... hit harder than it has in the past. I can't explain that except...” Frank blew out a breath, closing his eyes. “Except... I was completely helpless in what they did to Callie, how much they hurt her to get back at me, and I... I know I didn't know that she had trigger words, that I'd activated them, that she... She did it basically on my orders. Repeatedly. And then...”

“Then you triggered the one that told her to kill you.”

Frank shook his head. “Sometimes I think I should have found that one first.”

“Are you insane?” Joe demanded, reaching over to shake him. “Why would you say that? She could have killed you.”

“You know what happened when she tried,” Frank reminded him quietly. “It would have been better. I could have stopped her then, could have spared her and the others...”

“This isn't your fault,” Joe said. “How many times have you told me that about Iola?”

Frank met his brother's eyes. “And how many times did that work for you, Joe?”

Joe didn't answer, choosing instead to leave.

* * *

“Nancy?”

She stared at the man on the ground, aware of two dismaying possibilities both tied to the same horrible thought. _That could have been Ned._ It could have been him. She didn't know that she could react properly to that thought right now.

She felt a hand on her arm, and she blinked, looking over at the person who'd touched her. She should have been relieved when she saw him, but it wasn't relief she felt when she looked at him. It was guilt. She didn't know how to answer the questions all over his face.

“How did this happen?”

She swallowed. “Ned, I know he was your friend, and I know that you want to believe the best in the people you care about—”

“Nancy, he didn't do this. He couldn't have. He's on the floor, bleeding...”

Because of Nancy, Ned didn't say, still unable to believe the evidence in front of him. He was searching for another explanation, and she wanted to have one to give to him, but she didn't. She knew how he'd react. She hadn't told him about her theory, about what she suspected his friend of, all because she knew. She knew it would hurt him, and she knew he wouldn't want to believe it.

It didn't change the facts, and the fact was that Ned's good friend was not just guilty of any petty crime—he was a serial killer. A professional, one who did it for money. She hadn't thought it was possible, not at first, but she had found the answer to why one of Ned's closest school friends had died in a professional hit—he'd learned of his best friend and roommate's true occupation and had to die for it. She had thought the idea too wild, even for one of hers, and she'd looked into other theories first before returning to the impossible yet true.

“He tried to kill me, Ned.” She couldn't hold that back any longer, not even for him. “I was lucky. He didn't see the table on the side of the chair or the cord under it. If he hadn't stumbled there, he would have killed me.”

“Not Gary. He wouldn't have done that to Dean. Not him.”

_“Dean... He was the best. A real friend. I'd never had one of those before. I didn't want to have to hurt him,” Gary said as he withdrew the knife. “Same as I don't want to do anything to you.”_

_“You don't have to,” she said, moving to place the couch between the two of them. “It doesn't have to be like this.”_

_“I knew you were trouble from the start. From the moment Ned hooked up with you, I knew it was only a matter of time. Especially when he started complaining about you and those Hardy boys. One of you was bound to figure it out. I was just lucky someone sidelined them by taking out that girl he was dating.”_

_Though Callie was not a friend, Nancy couldn't help being angry about that. “Frank's girlfriend is much more than a bargaining chip or a way to get to him.”_

_“Is she? And what is Ned to you?”_

She turned, stepping closer to Ned and wrapping her arms around him. “I'm sorry, Ned. I'm so sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am unaware of any two friends of Ned's by the names I used. I didn't want to make anyone from canon a bad guy (though I suppose I come close by the brainwashing?) and so I made them up.


	3. Plans and Paranoia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nancy struggles to find a way to help the people she cares about, with answers from a surprising corner, and Frank continues to fight his way back to something more like himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was thinking, in terms of setting up a case, if I was hired and told to do it the way the books do, I think I'd get fired. At least now I believe the set up is over and the main case(s) can unfold.

* * *

“You should see him right now. He has this look on his face—it's in his whole body—if he has to do one more of the boring background checks, he'll lose it.”

Nancy smiled in spite of everything. She could picture that so clearly, knowing the brothers as well as she did, and the image in her head now took away Ned and the disastrous end to her last case. She could almost pretend it hadn't happened and that everything was normal and good, even when most—if not all—their lives were far from it. “That's Joe for you. Always wanting to be a part of the action.”

“I told him he could work on his own, but he kept insisting I was his partner and he wasn't leaving me behind.”

Nancy winced. The last thing he needed was to take on more guilt, not when he was already drowning in it. “Frank, that wasn't what I meant by that at all.”

“I know.”

She sighed, her eyes going to the window again. She should be having this conversation in person, but if she left Ned now, she figured she'd lose him forever, as tormented as he was by what his friend had done. “I wanted to thank you. You gave me the missing piece.”

Frank snorted. “Don't go flattering my ego now. It might be bruised beyond recognition, but that doesn't mean I need false praise.”

“I am not—”

“As I recall, I disagreed with your theory. I said the way it looked professional made it more likely that it wasn't because a professional would have made someone as innocuous as Dean was have an accident that would never be suspected as murder. That's not the missing piece.” 

Nancy glanced toward the other room, hoping that Ned was still asleep, though she couldn't be sure. He'd been unpredictable enough since he found out about Gary, enough to where they'd wanted to medicate him at the hospital. She wasn't sure Ned had gotten the prescription filled—he wouldn't tell her—but she didn't need him waking up now.

“You got me thinking,” she told Frank. “If Dean's death should have been accidental, then why did it look like a professional hit? Answer—a professional who resorted to training instead of planning an elaborate murder because he didn't have the time to make it look like an accident.”

“Quite the reach, Drew,” Frank said, a bit of teasing coming into his voice. “Not one I would have made, either.”

She shrugged. Frank was still the most logical of all of them as a detective, but she thought she could have persuaded him to see it from her side—if she'd been able to talk to him more. Most of her last few weeks had been a careful attempt to pretend she still didn't know who had killed Dean while keeping Ned pacified by her efforts without revealing anything about Gary. She knew if she told Ned—she closed her eyes, thinking about how easily Ned could have ended up like Dean.

“Hey,” Frank said, and she wondered how deep a sigh she must have made to give herself away across the line like that. “You know I have to give you the lecture on it not being your fault now. I mean, I can't claim it's doing me any good, but I'm duty bound to pass it along all the same.”

She tried not to laugh even as tears came to her eyes. It wasn't funny, but then nothing felt right these days. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome.” Frank was quiet for a moment before asking the dangerous question. “How's Ned?”

“A mess. He still can't see it. I'm not sure if...”

“If he blames you for it or not?”

“Sometimes, Frank Hardy, I hate that you are a good detective,” she said before she had time to think that through. She grimaced. Still, he'd known exactly what she was thinking. She was afraid Ned blamed her for what happened. Gary was alive and in custody—she hadn't killed him—but Ned's faith in his friends had been shattered at her hands, and she couldn't undo that.

“No more than I do myself,” Frank said, and she winced. Conversations with Frank were like fields of landmines these days, and she'd just stepped on one. “What are you planning to do?”

She shouldn't take the out he'd given her, but she didn't think she could afford to push right now. If she did, Frank might start refusing her calls again, and she didn't want to do that dance again. She shrugged, trying for a more hopeful tone. “Time is the only solution I have. I just have to give it to him.”

She could almost see Frank nodding across the line. He understood better than most. He'd seen Joe through losing Iola, and with what he was currently facing himself, he was all too aware of what it was like for Ned.

“Joe wants to talk to you,” Frank told her, changing the subject abruptly, and before she could object, the other Hardy was on the line.

“Heya, Nancy.”

She'd say something about not hearing from him in a while, but it wasn't true. One of her last conversations with him had been only hours before her confrontation with Gary, and Joe had called not long after it was over, trying to make sure she was okay—and to figure out what he could and couldn't tell Frank, she suspected.

She needed to know why Frank had dumped the call on Joe. “How is he, really?”

“Worried about you, I think,” Joe answered. “We had a pretty good morning—Frank's going through these background checks faster than I am, and while some people think I have to go over his work because of his... uh... issues, I haven't found any mistakes yet.”

“Being a detective is a large part of who he is. He hasn't forgotten that,” Nancy said, grateful for that much, though the last thing she wanted was her troubles making Frank's worse. “I should probably go. I think Ned's starting to move around again, and lately he's been—well, he hasn't reacted well to me being on the phone. I must be talking about him or keeping secrets from him again.”

“You were protecting him.”

“Ned doesn't see it that way.” She heard Joe snort and blew out a breath. “Admit it, Joe. Neither would you.”

“No, you're right. I hate it when Frank or Dad does that—when they keep things from me for my protection. Hell, that's only what I've been complaining about with Frank all my life but even more lately. I can't shake the feeling that he's just going through the motions for everyone else. It's so damn frustrating...” Joe stopped. He took a couple breaths before clearing his throat. “Look, I'm no expert at this, but maybe what Ned needs is some time... away from all of it. With you. No reminders. No cases. No... phone calls. Just you and him rebuilding.”

Nancy frowned. That wasn't like Joe at all. He'd been pestering her since Frank was in the hospital to come and visit. He'd even said their phone conversations were like lifelines. “Joe—”

“Bess said it first, so don't think I got all bright on my own somehow. I didn't. And it's not that I really want you to enforce the no call rule because I've relied on you a lot with what Frank's going through, but I'm not that selfish.”

Nancy had to smile at that, despite still being troubled, since it was hard to resist the idea of her friend giving Joe an earful. “I know. Thank you.”

* * *

“So I hear you lectured Joe.”

Bess looked up from studying the menu, frowning as she did. Nancy showing up late to a meal wasn't anything new, but Bess had figured she and George were on their own for this one. Nancy may have agreed to plans for lunch, but all she'd done since Ned's friend died was work that case or care for him, so her showing up now was more of a surprise than not.

“You did?” George asked, and Bess wanted to kick her under the table. She knew her cousin didn't understand her relationship with Joe—it was complicated, the best ones always were—but she didn't have to be glad that Bess had given Joe a stern talking to. “You didn't say anything—didn't even say you'd talked to him.”

“Yes, I talked to Joe today. He called me.”

“And?”

“Joe is adorable when he's worried about his brother,” Bess said, because it was true, and sometimes she envied how close the Hardy brothers were. “But he has to learn that Frank can't be everyone's priority.”

“That's what you lectured him about?” George was skeptical, though if she thought the only reason Bess might lecture Joe was him not noticing her hair or dress, she was wrong.

“He's still very worried about Frank,” Nancy said, fiddling with her water glass as she spoke. Her mind was miles away, in Bayport with her other friends. “And he's probably right to be—as much as I've tried to be reassuring, this behavior isn't like Frank. It seems more extreme a reaction than I would have expected—than any of us would have thought.”

“Things rarely go according to plan,” George reminded her, “and you never know how you're going to react to something like this. Trauma is different for everyone.”

“True,” Nancy agreed, but her expression and thoughts remained troubled. “With Frank and now Ned...”

“I think you should take Ned on a trip,” Bess began, having settled on this solution but only having been able to explain it to one person—Joe—since then.

“To see the Hardys?” George frowned, shaking her head. “That's... not a good idea, Bess. Frank's... not Ned's favorite person.”

_Understatement of the year,_ Bess thought, but she didn't say it. That wasn't what her plan was about. “I didn't say that. I don't think Ned and Nancy should go to Bayport. I _do_ think they should get away from here, though. Distraction. Change of scenery. No mysteries. Just... them.”

“Romantic,” George said, though her tone showed her disbelief.

“It could be,” Bess said, thinking of the things she'd do on a romantic getaway and smiling. Then she sobered up again. This wasn't about her. “When a relationship needs help, it's time to change things up. Going away together can rebuild a lot of things—rekindle old flames and remind you why you fell for them in the first place.”

“I'd say that almost sounds like something you read in a magazine,” George said, “but it's actually very mature of you.”

“Don't act so surprised,” Bess said, allowing herself a small grin. “I _do_ know a lot about love. Ned and Nancy need a chance to work this out.”

Nancy studied the table thoughtfully. Bess hoped she was considering her suggestion. If Nancy wanted to help Ned—to _keep_ him—she had to do something. And if Ned and Nancy couldn't fix things, then maybe this trip was what they both needed to see that they were meant to be apart.

Either way, Nancy couldn't help anyone when she was being torn in too many directions.

* * *

“Your brother's looking for you,” Fenton said, and Frank caught the wince when he jerked at his father's voice. He sighed. He'd thought the jumping at shadows part was done. He'd barely responded to anything when he'd retreated to his room. He shouldn't be so easily spooked now.

“Already?”

“He's worried about you, Frank. We all are.”

“I know.” Frank nodded. He found himself saying those words a lot lately. They were true. He did know. He knew he'd scared everyone, that they didn't understand his reaction and were afraid of what that meant and why he'd fallen so far from where he should have been, and he'd known that things had to change, and he'd known all the reasons for going on and why he should and he'd known—he knew plenty. He wasn't trying to make their fears worse, but he also didn't believe that he could do more than he already was. His efforts to be okay were straining their belief, and since they already thought he was taking on too much, if he did more, they'd know he was faking it. “I'm doing what I can, Dad. It's not more than I can handle.”

“You sure about that?”

Frank turned back to the window. “I'm just bored of background checks. I've started looking for conspiracies where none exist I'm that bored. I just... needed a break, that's all.”

Fenton nodded. “It's sure not the most glamorous work we do, but it is the steadiest. We can always use some of those boring background checks to help offset the more expensive and exotic ones.”

“I know,” Frank said, trying not to wince as he did. He traced a finger along the glass. He wasn't sure he wanted someone to swoop in with a more exciting case, though a part of him thought adrenaline might make him feel alive again when everything was so dead inside. “I think I've used those words on Joe a few times myself.”

“I bet you have,” Fenton agreed, coming toward him. “You are more mature than your age, most of the time, and I think that sometimes makes us forget just how young you really are and how much this can affect you.”

“I'm not five.”

“Maybe not,” Fenton agreed. “But do you think maybe it would help if you let yourself act like the child for a change instead of the parent? Or the older brother? If you let us care for you instead of taking care of us?”

Frank frowned. “Dad, I'm not sure where this speech is coming from, but I don't think it's going to work. I don't need to be a kid—I'm trying to be an adult and follow through on my adult responsibilities. That's what I need right now. Well, that and someone to talk me out of the idea that some of these backgrounds we're investigating haven't been faked—whitewashed stolen social security numbers of dead people scrubbed for clandestine work.”

Seeing his father tense, Frank almost swore out loud.

“Dad, are you telling me we were looking for—”

“You weren't supposed to find any.”

Frank folded his arms over his chest. “Yeah, well, I'm pretty sure I did. And not just one. At least ten, if not more. What did you get us involved in this time?”

“That's a long story.”

“I think we can make the time,” Frank told him. “Let's get Joe.”


	4. Omissions and Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nancy discusses the trip with Ned. Frank and Joe talk with their father about his omissions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be sneaking in more hints of both of the cases that started this story as I go on, but this time I got more of Frank's in, at least.

* * *

“You want to go away together?”

Nancy leaned against the wall and tried to figure out the best way to explain her reasoning. Ned was almost hostile today, and she knew he didn't mean to be, but he was processing a lot. Still, the way he'd snapped at her when she got back from lunch almost made her decide she wasn't going to tell him about Bess' idea.

“Ned, I know it may seem... heartless in the face of what happened to Dean, and we can't be gone forever because Gary is going to trial and I will be called as a witness,” she winced as she saw Ned's reaction to that, the same mixed emotions warring in his face. “I just... I don't know how else to help you. If we can change the scenery, be away from all this, maybe we can find a way to actually deal with it instead of...”

“Instead of what?” Ned asked, arms folded over his chest.

“Instead of this holding pattern,” she finished. “You haven't even been going through the motions. I bring you food, but you don't eat. I try to talk to you and you either yell at me to go away or beg me not to leave. I'm trying to help, but I don't know how, and that just gets you angrier with me. That's not what I want.”

“It's not what I want, either,” Ned told her, sincere regret in his voice. “I don't want to blame you, Nancy. I just... When I saw him on the floor, when I realized that was you, that you were the reason he was bleeding, I couldn't...”

“I know,” she said, stepping toward him and taking his hands. “So, are you willing to try going away from here? We'll be able to change pace, get away from where it all happened, and break this routine we seem to have found—one neither of us likes.”

Ned started to nod and stopped. “You're not going to tell me you're dragging me off to Bayport, are you? Because—”

“This is not about Frank. This is about you,” Nancy told him. As much as she would like to see Frank for herself—she'd feel a lot better about his condition if she could see him in person, especially after hearing Joe's panic when he was in the hospital—she knew she could count on Joe to look after Frank. She didn't know who she'd ask to do the same for Ned. Bess and George weren't as close to him as she was, and did they dare trust any of Ned's other friends?

“We're not going to Bayport.”

“Of course not. You pick where we go. Someplace you wanted to take me but we could never go because of a case. Someplace you've never been but want to see. Where we go and what we do is up to you—at least in as much as you want to plan it. I won't force that on you if you don't want it.”

Ned nodded, turning away. She shouldn't have said anything about missed trips and dates for cases, but she could make up for them with this trip, and she would. She knew she was going to do whatever it took to help Ned through this and repair the rift between them.

“Were you thinking of anyone else coming along?”

Nancy shook her head. “Not really. Not unless you wanted them to. Bess said she didn't want to intrude, and George has commitments she can't break, so unless we wanted to wait—and I don't think we should—it would just be the two of us.”

“Romantic.”

His tone made her wince. “It doesn't have to be. We were friends first, and we can still be that even after this.”

“After you lied to me?”

Nancy sighed. This really would be a long trip.

* * *

“Frank? Earth to Frank. Don't make me do an impression of Aunt Gertrude and call you by your first name,” Joe said, trying to sound light and teasing, though the way his brother had zoned out on everyone two seconds after saying their father had something to tell them was not good. Fugues and flashbacks were common things these days, but Joe had never seen one come over Frank that fast before, and he couldn't figure out what might have triggered it.

Fenton moved forward and touched Frank's arm, making him jerk, and Joe almost wanted to hit his father. Didn't the man know better than that by now? “Frank.”

Shuddering, Frank wrapped his arms around himself and forced his eyes to their father's. “I think I've had enough of the worst case scenarios running through my head. You need to tell Joe and me what is really going on with these background checks.”

“They're busy work for getting you back on your feet,” Joe said, though he shouldn't admit that. Then he looked at his father. “Aren't they?”

Fenton sighed. “Not entirely.”

“What?” Joe demanded, looking at his father and trying to contain his outrage. What had he gotten them into? He'd swore this was something easy and light for Frank to do, something that would take his mind off Callie and what happened, that would get Frank's mind back on track with what he did best, but it was supposed to be routine. Even Frank said he couldn't handle something more than that.

Fenton gestured for them to sit. Frank ignored it, going to the window. That was his thing these days—now that he was out of his room, he stared out windows instead of at walls. Joe hoped it was an improvement, but Frank had him so confused right now that he couldn't be sure. “It's a long story.”

Frank snorted, and Joe knew his brother had already heard that part. So... Frank had been together enough to call their father on whatever this was. That was good. Joe liked knowing that, but he still didn't like what he'd seen or the sense he was getting now.

“What is going on?”

“The background checks I had you doing, they've been done before,” Fenton began, and Joe frowned. Even Frank seemed to have trouble with that one. “And yes, Frank, they were looking for identities that could have been used for clandestine operations, social security numbers and names stolen from the dead and sold to others or used by covert organizations.”

Joe folded his arms over his chest. He wasn't surprised Frank had caught that—he'd almost wanted it to be true himself. “Still... if you had someone check it before, why use us? For Frank?”

“No,” Fenton said. He leaned against the desk, folding his hands together. “You weren't supposed to find anything—”

“—Because someone already checked and said there was nothing to find,” Frank finished. “Someone is covering up these names and identities.”

“Yes.”

Joe studied his father. “Do you know who it is?”

“No. There isn't one person letting them all pass without inspection. It's not that simple. If it was, they'd already be in custody.”

“Then what, Dad? A conspiracy of private agencies all in collusion to let these people use the identities for... what? Maybe it's just the government and they're covering their tracks, and while it's not great, it's not exactly legal, it is... kind of what they'd have to do, isn't it?” Joe shook his head and looked over at his brother, wanting to know if Frank agreed, but he was focused on the window again, and Joe couldn't see his reflection in the glass.

“I'm not sure what it means, Joe,” their father admitted. “I just know these names were supposed to be clean.”

“They all seemed to be.”

“No,” Frank disagreed, his voice unnervingly quiet. “They didn't.”

* * *

“You look relieved.”

Nancy managed a grimace that had George frowning, but she gestured for the other woman to come into the room. Now that she was here, George could see more signs of the toll caring for Ned was taking on Nancy. It wasn't just in her tired expression or the fatigue in her posture, but everywhere around the normally tidy space. Nancy hadn't had time to clean, and it showed.

“I think I'm glad for the interruption,” Nancy admitted. “Talking Ned into this trip has been harder than I thought it would be.”

George nodded. She held out the bag she'd brought over. “I didn't think it would be easy. Bess' ideas can be good, but they usually don't go according to plan. Here, these are the clothes she wanted you to have.”

“George, you didn't not come all the way across town to give me clothes for Bess.”

“No, I didn't,” George agreed. She forced a smile. “I have to admit, I'm not as sold on the trip idea as Bess is. I'm worried about it. If Ned really is acting as moody as you've said, and if he's taking this as hard as he seems to be—”

“Ned would never hurt me.”

“And I bet everyone said that about Callie and Frank,” George said, and Nancy grimaced. George wasn't proud of herself for that comment. “I'm sorry. It—I just—”

“I know you're worried, and I'm glad you are,” Nancy said. George frowned, but her friend smiled. “If both you and Bess agreed to the trip, I'd feel like something was wrong. It's nice to see you doing what you do best—acting as a voice of reason. This isn't the same. Callie was abducted and tortured, brainwashed into harming others. Ned hasn't been. He's just in a very vulnerable place emotionally, and I owe it to him as a friend to see him through it. I don't know who else could.”

George nodded. While Nancy had, in the past, asked for her or Bess to look after Ned while she was away on one of her cases, none of them had the same place in Ned's life as she did. “I'm just worried, that's all. Ned wasn't the only one who didn't see what Gary was.”

Nancy drew in a breath and let it out. “I almost forgot you two dated.”

George snorted. “Don't make it sound like that. It wasn't much of a relationship. We had dinner a couple of times, that's all. I just feel like the dates should have shown me what he was, but I didn't get the sense that he was a killer—we just never clicked.”

“Gary had everyone fooled. Even Dean didn't suspect until it was much too late,” Nancy said, putting a hand on her arm. “It's okay. That is... as long as you're okay.”

“I'm fine. I'm a big girl who takes care of myself,” George said. She looked around the room again. “Any thought about where you're going?”

“I'm not sure yet. All I know for sure is that it can't be anywhere near the Hardys.”

* * *

“Frank?”

The sound of his own name made him grimace. He was sick of hearing it, he had to admit that. They kept using it to get his attention, and he didn't like the reminders of how far his mind had wandered or where it had gotten to. He should change it, but then he'd just get sick of another one.

He turned back to face his brother. Joe came closer to him, a small frown on his face. “You know, I get the sense that in the middle of that conversation about conspiracies, you managed to travel halfway around the world and back again. You zoned out there, and that is something I never thought you'd do while discussing a case.”

Frank shook his head. “I think I have done it before, but everyone takes what I do these days as some horrible sign that something else is wrong with me.”

“I suppose some of us are just looking for other reasons so we can fix them.”

“I don't need you or anyone else to fix me,” Frank told him. He had to do that himself, and he was working on it. It was just a slow process. Slower than anyone liked. He looked back at where his father had been for most of the conversation. “Where did Dad go?”

“He said he wanted to see what Mom was making for dinner.”

“Code words for 'I'm leaving so see what's wrong with your brother,'” Frank said. Joe winced. This time Frank smiled. “I actually wanted him to go. He's not telling us everything.”

“Why? You think he's holding back to protect you?”

Frank tapped on the glass, eyes on the distance. “I keep thinking about what Zollner said when he had me.”

Joe looked sick, and Frank would have apologized for bringing that up if he thought it would matter, but it wasn't like it changed what happened—and it hadn't even happened to Joe. He saw the aftermath. He hadn't lived it. “Yeah, but he was wrong. He didn't have time to do anything to you.”

_“You see, Franklin?” Zollner leaned over him, close enough to Frank's ear to where he could feel his breath, hot and disgusting, like his last meal was burning Frank's skin. “That was only the start of what we are going to share.”_

_Frank shivered, trying to control his reaction. He just had to hold out a little longer. His father would be here. Joe would find him. He had left everything he knew about Zollner out for them to use, and they would find him. “No.”_

_Zollner laughed, patting Frank's cheek. “I admire your determination after you've been caught, young man, but you're being foolish. You know what I can do with you? I can remake you. I will mold you into anything I want you to be. I'll take my time, of course, perfecting just what I want from you, but with your mind and body... Oh, the things I can do.”_

_Frank gagged, sickened by the man's words and the smells as well as the lingering pain from what Zollner had done earlier. “You won't.”_

_“I've already started with you,” Zollner insisted, and Frank wanted to turn away and hide from that smug smile on the man's face but refusing to give him the satisfaction. “I can turn you into someone else. You won't recognize your name. Your family. Only me... and what I want from you.”_

Joe's hand shook Frank's arm, and he swore, loudly as he came back to the present. Joe watched him, that same worry on his face, and Frank took a moment to regain control of his breathing. Joe nudged him away from the window, back toward the couch. Frank let him, even if he didn't want to be moved. He was feeling the need to puke again—remembering Zollner always did that to him—and he needed to let the nausea pass, at least.

“He's not here,” Joe said, his words meant to comfort. “You got him, remember? All the evidence, everything you needed to put that sicko away for life, you had it even before he kidnapped you. And we got you back. You're safe. He can't do any of that to you.”

Frank met Joe's eyes. “No. He just did them to Callie.”


	5. Paranoia and Confusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe tries to figure out how to deal with Frank's revelations. Nancy and Ned start their trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once, in another life, under another pen name, I was known for my cliffhangers.
> 
> I'm not so sure they're that good anymore.

* * *

Joe felt his brother's words like a kick to the gut. He knew it was true—Callie _had_ been taken by Zollner after Frank escaped from him. They hadn't known it at first, since Zollner had been in prison and wasn't that likely a suspect, since his whole organization was taken with them—or so they'd thought.

Joe grimaced. Frank blamed himself for that, too, for not having more information on Zollner, for not protecting Callie from the remnants of Zollner's organization.

“Frank,” Joe began, not bothering to tell him that it wasn't his fault because Frank would never listen to that or believe it. “Do you really think that this is Zollner again? That these identities were used by him somehow?”

Frank drew his knees up to his chest, letting his head rest on them. “I hope not. Still, it's this shadow over my life, over _everything._ I don't know how to stop seeing the connections there. It _could_ be people working for him under those names. I don't know.”

“This is seriously what you were doing holed up in your room for the past month, isn't it? You've been thinking of all these things—connections, conspiracies... You're still looking for ways he can get to you. Ways he can hurt people you care about.”

Frank let his legs down, running his hands over his thighs. “If I had done that before, he wouldn't have been able to hurt Callie.”

“You don't know that,” Joe told him. “You can't predict everything, and what you did have on that bastard was plenty enough to take him down. Your research was thorough, Frank. You know that. We didn't even find the connection to Zollner. If he hadn't been twisted enough to tell you he'd done it, you wouldn't even know. Maybe he was claiming credit just to screw with you. Have you thought about that?”

“Every damn day.”

Their mom or aunt would have lectured Frank on the language, but Joe just waited. His brother rose, leaving the couch for the window again. “Those things he said he would do to me...”

“Only he didn't. Zollner didn't get to do anything to you.” Joe insisted. Then he stopped, watching Frank with a new suspicion. They'd found Frank before Zollner had been able to do any real damage. He was bruised and a little battered, but Frank had actually had worse injuries before. “Did he?”

Frank leaned his head against the glass. “I'm not sure.”

“You never said you didn't remember part of that time.”

“It's not that. I remember everything,” Frank said. He closed his eyes. “I just... I can't help wondering if this is what he meant to do all along—drive me slowly insane. He'll beak me without ever really touching me because he can hurt the people I care about and I can't stop him. He'll get me because he used others to do it, and he created these doubts in my mind about what I could have done or should have done—he's winning and I can't stop him because he's used who I am against me...”

Joe swallowed, trying to think of some kind of response, something to say that would help. He waited for a minute before he decided on what to do, the only thing he _could_ do. He went to Frank's side and pulled his brother close. He held onto him, unwilling to let go.

* * *

“So, are you ever going to tell me where we're going?”

Ned looked over at her, and Nancy forced a smile she didn't feel, aware of how easily this could turn into an argument. He'd said she didn't trust him—that wasn't true. She _did_ trust Ned. She had trusted him with her life before, and some people would say she was doing it now. He wasn't the most stable person in the world, but she'd let him pick their destination and gotten in the car with him without knowing what it was.

She might be crazy. She might also be doing the only thing she could to show him that it wasn't that she didn't trust him. She wasn't sure he'd take any of her words with the intent they were meant. She'd held back her suspicions about Gary because she knew Ned wouldn't want to hear them. He'd never believe them, just like she wouldn't believe Ned was a killer.

She hadn't wanted to hurt Ned with her theory—and explaining how she'd ended up with it would be worse—she didn't think she could ever say that something Frank had said got her thinking about Gary as the killer. She had wanted proof, something to tell her she was wrong—she had wanted to be wrong—before she told Ned.

She got her proof when Gary tried to kill her.

_“What's it gonna be, Drew?” Gary asked, smiling like he was telling a joke. “I know thousands of ways to kill you. How'd you like to go out? What will be the end to the world famous girl detective?”_

_“I think I'll take old age,” Nancy answered, making him snarl with fury as he reached for her. She ducked, but he managed to catch hold of her wrist. She tried to twist free, but he yanked her close to him, putting his other hand under her neck._

_“How about we snap that pretty little neck of yours instead?”_

_“No,” Nancy said, elbowing him hard in the stomach. She followed that with a kick to the groin, getting herself free and rushing around the couch. She needed a weapon, any kind of weapon..._

Something shoved her, and Nancy jerked, looking over at Ned. Cars were honking as they sped past them on the shoulder, and Nancy could only shudder as she realized what had happened. Ned's eyes were full of concern.

“Nancy?”

“I'm sorry. I...”

“I know that look,” Ned said, shaking his head as he took her hand. “You were remembering. And it wasn't good. It was about Gary, wasn't it?”

“I don't think we should talk about it.”

Ned let out a breath. “Well, I admit, I don't want to hear about him hurting you. I thought he was a friend. I can't believe he did that to Dean. To you. Every time I try, it wants to shut me down. How could we all have been so wrong about him?”

“Honestly, Ned, I have no idea.”

* * *

“Frank back upstairs?”

Joe nodded, not sure he trusted himself to talk. His mother was worried, they all were, but he didn't know that he could tell his parents what Frank had admitted to him earlier. He didn't even know where to start helping his brother with that. His mother might know, but then again, she might not. How did anyone know how to cope with the sort of thing Frank was facing? And how did a parent do it? He wouldn't be surprised if no one let Frank out of the house again.

“Your father said he took their conversation hard,” Laura said. “He was—”

“Blaming himself?”

Laura forced a smile. “Seems to be a lot of that going around this house lately. Frank's eaten up by it, and we're all feeling the same because we can't help him. We didn't see what was happening with Callie until it was too late, and now we're powerless against what Frank is fighting.”

Joe nodded glumly. “I don't know what to say or do. He finally told me more, and what he said scared me so much all I did was hug him.”

His mother smiled for real that time. “That might have been just what your brother needed. Don't knock it. You two have always been close. You're good for each other. It isn't always about words. It's about actions.”

Joe nodded, going over to the refrigerator and opening it. “Did Dad tell you what he did? That he gave us files to review without telling us that he suspected someone of using them to hide covert activities?”

“Yes, and I did tell him he was a fool for thinking neither of you would pick up on that.”

That made Joe smile. “Thanks, Mom.”

“He wasn't expecting Frank to take it as hard as he did, though.”

Joe grimaced. “None of us know what will set Frank off these days, not even Frank. He was hung up on the idea that it was Zollner, though. That the kind of brainwashing crap he did to Callie and tried to do to him was done to these people living under the names Dad had us check into. I don't know if he'll be able to let go of that.”

“Sounds like you may have to track one of these names down.”

Joe stared at his mother. “Are you kidding?”

“Don't take that tone with me,” she warned. She put her hands on the counter and sighed. “I don't like it. I don't want Frank out there like this. He's struggling, and we all know it. Still, I don't see a better way to put to bed some of those doubts of his, and until he can do that, he won't improve. Sometimes you have to risk getting worse to get better.”

“That's what you said to make us take that disgusting cold medicine.”

“You always felt better afterward, though, didn't you?”

Joe had to admit she was right. “Fine. I'll go see which names Frank thinks we should look into and go from there.”

She nodded. “Be careful, Joe. You don't know what those names might mean. Or how your brother will react to any of it.”

“You want to come watch over us?”

“Don't tempt me.”

* * *

“So, where did you end up?”

“Some roadside motel.”

Bess frowned. “You know, when I advised you to take a trip, going off to some cheap motel was not what I had in mind. You deserve better than cheap, and no matter what your problems are, you're not going to fix it by a quickie in a bad motel.”

She could almost see Nancy's face as she groaned across the line. “Don't say that, Bess. Not only would Ned not do that, it's not about the price of the motel. It's about... I had a flashback earlier. One minute I was sitting in the car asking Ned where we were going and the next... Gary was about to kill me again.”

Bess winced. “Nancy...”

“I know. I didn't expect it or have any warning. I've had worse scares before, though it is different. Gary was one of Ned's friends. He and I... I knew him for years. How did I not see it? I keep asking myself that, and I don't have an answer. I didn't even start thinking of him as a possibility until I talked the case over with someone else, and that wasn't the conclusion he drew, so why did I jump to Gary? Why was it him?”

Bess had no answer for that. Nancy should have called George. Bess did romance. She did other things, too, but she couldn't answer this. She tell Nancy to ask someone more like... well, like one of the Hardys or her father, but the first was a bad idea and the second a little awkward since Carson hadn't loved the idea of Nancy taking off with Ned for a vacation without a destination or a return date.

None of them were, not really.

“I think it's because you're a better detective than you're thinking right now,” Bess told her after a minute. “You knew you were right even though you wanted to be wrong. Your mind put together the stuff you'd dismissed before and found the bad guy. It's what you do.”

Nancy was probably nodding on the other end. “I just wish I'd seen it sooner. Maybe Dean would still be alive and Ned wouldn't hate me.”

“Ned doesn't hate you.”

“I don't know how to fix this,” Nancy admitted. “A part of me thinks I'm crazy for taking this trip. I know it was the best thing, the only thing, but I don't know that it's enough.”

“Do you want me to join you? I know George can't, but I would. Just tell me where I need to be,” Bess offered, hoping she wasn't making a mistake. She didn't want to get caught up in anything dangerous, but she also didn't want to be a third wheel or keep Ned and Nancy from dealing with what they needed to fix.

“No, I think I'll be fine. I haven't had any more memories come back to me, and Ned's been—well, I think I scared him earlier. He insisted on stopping for my sake and has been hovering around all night. If I hadn't sent him out for dinner, he'd still be here watching over me.”

“Sounds more like the old Ned.”

“Yeah,” Nancy agreed. “I just... I know Ned's having a hard time, and I know it sounds crazy, but do you think...”

Bess hated those kinds of questions. Trailing off was never a good thing. “Do I think _what?”_

“Nothing. It's not important.”

Bess frowned, but before she could ask about that, Nancy was saying goodbye. “There's Ned. I should let you go. I didn't promise no cellphones, but I think the less I'm on mine, the better.”

“Nancy—”

Her friend had already hung up.

* * *

Nancy ended the call, feeling bad for being so abrupt with Bess, but she also had to chide herself for her foolishness. The thought she'd had and almost asked Bess about was so ridiculous it was laughable, and she didn't want to start down that route. She didn't need more paranoia. Things were already too tense as it was, and she wasn't about to make them worse. She just needed to stay calm and talk things out with Ned now that they had a chance to clear the air.

She glanced toward the window, now frowning. She'd sworn that she heard Ned pulling up, but while she could see his car in the lot, he was nowhere in sight. She didn't want to think the wrong thing, but if he was back, why hadn't he come inside?

She went to the door and opened it, peeking out. The lot was deserted except for three cars, one of them Ned's, and she could see the cracks in the pavement went almost all the way through it. The next stop had been another fifty miles from here, and while she'd thought she'd be fine, Ned had disagreed.

Sometimes it was adorable when he worried.

She shook off the thought with a faint smile as she stepped out into the lot. She knew the vending machines were to the left, same with the ice maker that had seen better days, but she didn't see anyone by them. She ran her hands over her arms.

Crazy. Ned wouldn't just leave, and no one would attack him here, would they? They didn't even know him. And if they did, they'd know he was a good, decent guy who'd had a real rough patch lately. No one would hurt him.

_Calm yourself, Drew. Not everyone is a killer. Not everyone is Gary, hiding under a facade of friendship while coldbloodedly killing for money. Ned is fine. He was even more like his old self earlier. Things are getting better, not worse._

Still, she shivered despite the warmth of the night. “Ned?”

No answer.


	6. Discoveries and Distractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe and Bess try to find a way to help the people they care about. Nancy stumbles onto something while looking for Ned. Frank remembers despite trying not to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so in part I was evil to pull what I did. You'll see what I mean. Whether that was more evil than the rest, I don't know, but it was kind of bad of me. :/ I should apologize, but I'm not entirely sorry.
> 
> I did try to add some humor. Does that make it better?

* * *

“You're kidding, right? Was she drinking when she agreed to this?”

Bess almost laughed, might have if the situation was at all funny, but she didn't really feel like it was. She'd hoped that talking to Joe would calm her down after her last conversation with Nancy—he was more easygoing than the others, and while he did get himself in trouble often and could be impulsive and even a bit stupid, he knew when to worry without brooding like his brother or doing what Nancy did.

“No, she was sober, though I don't know she was thinking all that clearly,” Bess said. “I regret pushing her now. I thought the trip was a good idea—”

“It was,” Joe said, and she knew it pained him to admit that. “Much as I wanted Nancy to come out here or offer Frank a case to get him out of his room and out of this funk he's in, she's... Well, she has to work this thing out with Ned one way or another.”

Bess had to wonder just what Joe's real opinion was of which way it should go, but she didn't ask. That could wait. “Do you think she's really in trouble?”

“With Ned?” Joe asked. He considered it. “Well, it's weird to me that he wasn't willing to tell anyone where he wanted to take her, and they haven't said how long they'll be gone. It'll take how long it takes, as everyone keeps reminding me when I want Frank back to normal now, but do you really think Ned would hurt her? You know him better than I do.”

Bess sighed. “I don't know.”

“Really?”

“I... It's not that he hasn't,” Bess began, feeling uncomfortable. “Emotionally, I mean. We all hurt the people we love, whether we mean to or not. Ned can get jealous and overprotective sometimes. And he's been kind of... different since he found out Gary was a hitman and Nancy had to stop him.”

Joe was probably nodding on the other end of the line. “That sort of thing can be hard to take. When you trust someone and they're not who they seemed to be and then they harm someone you care about...”

“You're thinking about Frank again, aren't you?”

“Sorry. Can't help it. He's still a mess, and I find myself thinking, wishing, that I hadn't pulled my brother off and Frank _had_ actually killed the guy. Or maybe I should have done it.”

Bess wasn't sure what she was hearing. “What?”

Joe swore, remembering who he was and what he was saying. “I... It's not that I want Frank to be a killer or to have that kind of guilt and responsibility, but he was close—it would have been self-defense—and... and if Frank had killed him when we freed him, then he would actually _be_ free. Zollner wouldn't be able to taunt him from prison or arrange to have anyone else hurt. He's screwing with Frank's head without even trying.”

Bess sighed. “You think that's what Gary's doing? Could that be why Ned is acting so weird?”

“Maybe.”

“But you don't think that's it.”

“I'm no expert,” Joe told her. “I mean, this thing with Frank has me stumped. Just when I think he shouldn't be taking it as hard as he is, he starts trying to function again. Then something reminds him of Callie or Zollner, and he's back in his room. Dad gave us something that was supposed to be routine to work on, only he saw a conspiracy in it, and Frank not only found that conspiracy but added more of his own. The whole thing is messed up.”

“I'd offer to help, but I don't know what I could do. It's not like my specialty of retail therapy would get anywhere with either of you.”

Joe laughed. “You know, the way things are going lately, I think I might actually prefer that over what I've been dealing with.”

* * *

Nancy crossed the parking lot, still searching for Ned. She didn't know what to think of his absence, and while she didn't want to go around assuming the worst, that was what so often happened to people in her line of work. Just look at Frank.

She grimaced. Thinking about Frank was not a good idea, not now. She'd feel guilty for not being able to be there for him, and if she let her mind take the crazy thoughts she'd had, then she might start thinking that Gary was connected to Frank's personal bogeyman Zollner, and that was something she couldn't let herself get lost in. The possibilities were endless—and terrifying.

She stopped in front of the vending machines, noting that the one was out of order, and the ice machine kicked in just in time to make her jump. She cursed herself for being stupid and paranoid. She didn't know that anything was wrong.

She turned, walking toward the motel's office. She knew it was a stretch, but if Ned had gotten moody, he could have decided to leave her here alone. She didn't think he would leave his car, but making sure he hadn't checked out was something she could do besides run around the motel searching for something that might not even be lost.

She stopped, the headline on the newspaper catching her eye and distracting her for a moment. _Local Man Found Dead._ Her eyes went to the picture of police working near a taped off irrigation ditch, and she frowned. _Body of forty-five year old Jensen Haggard was found early this morning just off highway eight. The cause of his death is not yet determined. Haggard, who was—_

“I was hoping you wouldn't see that.”

Nancy jumped, whirling around. “Ned! Where have you been?”

He frowned at her. “I went to get us food. I told you I was going.”

“I know, but... your car is here and you weren't and I swear I heard you pull up and—”

“I walked. I don't know what you heard or why you're freaking out, but I'm okay. I went across the street and got us some takeout,” he said, holding up a bag. “Your favorite, even.”

She swallowed. “I don't... why were you hoping I wouldn't see it?”

“Because you said no mysteries, but if you heard that guy's death was ruled a murder, you'd probably want to start looking into it even though we were only here overnight,” Ned answered, calm and oh so reasonable in the face of Nancy being overly paranoid. She sighed. “I do know you a little _too_ well.”

She forced a smile. “I just wish I'd known you were walking. I got myself all worked up over nothing, and I don't want to be thinking the worst.”

“I'm fine,” Ned assured her. “Let's go back to the room.”

Nancy nodded, letting him guide her along. She willed herself not to look back at the paper. She did want to know more. She couldn't help it.

* * *

_“Thank you for the flowers,” Callie said, and Frank wanted to gag. Like he could make up for any of what had happened to her with a set of flowers. The idea was so stupid it made him angry, and he almost picked up the ones he'd sent and threw them out._

_Except... he hadn't sent any flowers. He'd been locked up in a mess of confusion, not knowing what he could do to help her, to make this right, and his mother had just squeezed his shoulder and told him to be there for Callie, which he was. He hadn't left the hospital unless someone made him, and he held her good hand whenever he could, read her stories—he didn't dare talk about his cases or anything that might upset her—but he hadn't had the clarity or even the time to arrange for flowers._

_His stomach twisted as he rose, going to the flowers on the table and taking the card that said it was from him. He turned it over in his hand, not understanding. Had his mother done this? He didn't think it could have been Joe. Yeah, flowers were often a guy's way of saying he was sorry, that he'd screwed up, and even Frank had used them before, but not for something like this._

_“Frank?”_

_“You want some more jello?” Frank asked, his voice sounding strange. “I need a soda, so I'm going down to the cafeteria. I'll get you something if you want.”_

_“No, I'm fine,” she said. He nodded, walking out with the card. As soon as he was outside of the room, he took out his phone and pulled up an app, changing the light on his phone to reveal additional text on the card._

You see, Franklin? Nothing is out of my reach, not even you.

_Frank crumpled the card before remembering he needed it for evidence. He cursed, shaking his head. He knew Zollner. There wasn't anything on that card to find, but he had already given Zollner what he wanted—he'd lost control._

Frank leaned over his desk and closed his eyes. He took in a breath and let it out, trying to calm himself. He'd assumed that Zollner was just bragging about what he had done to Callie, but now Frank knew he was also promising more. Zollner did not have to touch him. He could use too many people, hurt so many others...

And he didn't even need them.

A knock made him jerk, and Frank turned back to the door. “Joe.”

“Well, don't sound like you like me or anything. I'm only your brother,” Joe teased as he came into the room. Frank noticed his clothes were different, and he frowned. How long had he been up here in his room? Had more than a day passed with him not noticing? Had he been caught up in memories for that long again?

“I came to ask you about the list again.”

Frank grimaced. Right. The list. The one that had sent him into his latest fugue. “I made notes on all the ones I thought felt... hinky.”

“Hinky?”

Frank nodded, thinking Joe should have appreciated the pop culture reference more. “Yes. Hinky. As in... feels wrong but without any real basis for that feeling, just... instinct.”

“Right. Nice definition,” Joe said, and this time he smiled. “I know you like your facts, so I guess I shouldn't be so surprised to have you say that, but I still have a little trouble picturing it, and I was here, right here, in the same room with you, when you did.”

Frank shrugged. “Everything has a sort of surreal feeling to it these days. Ever since we found Callie...”

Joe looked like he was going to hug him again, and Frank sidestepped him when he moved. He didn't feel like being touched, not right now. “Which one makes you feel the hinkiest?”

“That is so not a word.”

“Not the point.” Joe reached over to the desk, picking up the paper with Frank's list. He knocked a small card onto the floor and stopped to pick it up. “Wait. This isn't—”

“It's not the one he sent to Callie's hospital room. It's the one he sent to mine.”

Joe stared at him, hurt. “Frank... You never even told us you got this.”

Frank took the card from him. “I only went through all of them yesterday. I couldn't make myself do it before now. I didn't want to know. Couldn't handle knowing. I think if you want to find the hinkiest, it would have to be Jensen—”

“Frank,” Joe repeated his name, almost frantic. “Did you see who this card was supposed to be from?”

“It doesn't matter. He'd use anyone he could to get to me and—”

“It's from _Nancy.”_


	7. Curiosity and Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nancy's intrigued by the local case, but she tries to resist it. Joe confronts Frank and gets more than he bargained for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So between a horrible work schedule and coming down with a cold, I'm having more doubts than usual that I'm in character, though I'm trying really hard to keep it there. It's not easy. I can't seem to get Nancy where her case starts, and Frank keeps throwing me for loops.
> 
> I was all set to apologize for the chapter being shorter, but it turns out it's longer, just with a short scene at the end.

* * *

Nancy checked again, looking at Ned's sleeping form in the other bed. He was still agitated in his sleep, though she thought he would stay asleep this time. She hoped, anyway. With her mind caught up in so much, she didn't feel like sleeping, even if they'd stopped here for her sake. She wasn't tired—she was, actually—but she wasn't able to shut off her mind. She'd been trying to find where she could have changed things, and when she wasn't thinking about that, she was back on the headline she'd seen in the newspaper.

She slipped out of the door and crossed the dark parking lot toward the office. The other lights must have been out, but the office light was bright, and the word vacancy was blinking in and out. She stopped by the newspaper vendors. She put in her coins and took out the papers, one of each, carrying them back to the room with her. 

Ned was right—she couldn't resist a mystery, and this one would take her mind off her inability to sleep and all the awkwardness between her and him. She couldn't undo what Gary had done, couldn't change him being a killer or that he had murdered one of Ned's good friends and a good man, and she didn't deserve to be punished for that. Sometimes it felt like that was what Ned was doing, and she didn't want to make things worse by fighting with him, but she didn't want to be walked all over, either.

She sat down with the articles, reading them over. The press didn't know a lot, which didn't surprise her, but she couldn't help being intrigued by what was there all the same. Haggard was the third person to die in the same amount of weeks, all under suspicious circumstances, though none of them had been called murder, not yet.

She wanted to get a hold of the articles on the other deaths, but even with just the small mention they got in the article, she knew she wasn't the only one wondering if there was a connection between the deaths and if all of them were, in fact, murders.

She would need details on the victims and the way they died to be sure, though.

She sighed, looking back at Ned. She'd promised no mysteries, and she shouldn't let herself get involved in this. She was only passing through the area, and she couldn't stay, not long enough to make any sort of difference. She was just using this as a distraction. That was all.

She picked up her phone and went back outside. It was late, and she shouldn't call, but it was either this or searching the internet for more information, and she knew which one kept her promise and which one didn't.

“George?”

“Nancy? What are you doing up so late? Please tell me nothing's wrong. Bess sounded pretty worried about you earlier. She's afraid she made the wrong choice in pushing you to go on the trip.”

“Nothing's wrong,” Nancy assured her quickly. “I mean, I'm acting paranoid and coming up with ridiculous theories and trying my best not to fight with Ned—he spooked me this afternoon, though mostly because I was caught up in that paranoia I mentioned. I thought he'd disappeared or...”

“Or?”

Nancy shook her head. “I know Ned's having a rough time, but I don't want to—finding out Gary was a killer for hire was difficult—and not just for Ned. I kept wondering how someone could turn into that, be so cold blooded and yet seem normal when he was with us.”

“You mean how he fooled all of us,” George said. “You're not actually thinking Ned is like that, are you? Ned might not be perfect—he's close—but he's also not a killer.”

Nancy bit back saying Callie hadn't been, either. This wasn't the same. “I saw the paper. There as a suspicious death here, the third one that's happened in the same amount of weeks. I read the article, though I know Ned didn't want me to. And I want to know more—”

“But you promised no mysteries.”

“Which is why I called. I'm sorry. I'm just... A case is my ideal distraction, and it's the one I'm not supposed to use. It'll only make things worse between me and Ned.”

“Well, Bess would talk about shopping or fashion—”

“Please, no.”

“—And all I've got is work—”

“I'll take it,” Nancy told her, and George laughed on the other end of the line.

* * *

“So, what do you plan to do about this?”

“Nothing.”

Joe stared at his brother in shock. Of all the things Frank had said and done lately, that was one of the more shocking—it couldn't and didn't top Frank's emergency call to say he thought he'd killed Callie and was himself bleeding out—but it was up there because this was _Frank._ Overprotective, overthinking, guilt-ridden Frank.

“How can you say you're not going to do anything about it? Zollner sent that card to you posing as Nancy. When he sent the card to Callie, he warned you he could get to you anywhere, and he did. Hell, he used your own girlfriend to do it. You almost killed her trying to stop her. And now Zollner has targeted Nancy, and you're going to do _nothing?”_

Frank frowned at him. “In the first place—Zollner had his pick of people he could have used to send that message with. All he needs from it is to remind me that he knows everyone in my life and still has agents willing to do his dirty work and hurt them to get to me.”

“—Which is so messed up. You're not—He's obsessed with you, right? Why does he always use someone else to do his dirty work?”

“Because I think in his mind he's warped it so he's the only one allowed to touch me directly,” Frank answered with a surprising and sickening calm. He'd had way too much time to think this through, Joe knew that, and that Frank had somehow accepted it was almost unreal, but then Frank was... well, his judgment was a little questionable these days. “Look, I don't really know what I did that made him fixate on me as much as he has. I've gone over it, looking for what made me so special. Zollner's been investigated before, and he never focused on any of those agents or officers before. He killed them, yes, in many cases, but with me... I don't know. I don't have an easy answer for it. Maybe I remind him of a younger him and he wants to use that as a way to build his legacy or...”

“Or, what? He's got some sick, psycho crush on you that means he has to eliminate your girlfriend and any woman in your life, too?”

Frank gagged. “Don't say that, Joe. It's bad enough without worrying about the angle that his obsession is sexual.”

Joe winced. “Yeah, sorry. I'm just... The worst case scenario was funny for the two seconds it took for my brain to catch up with good sense. I didn't mean it. I'm still having a hard time believing you don't want to do something about this threat to Nancy, though.”

Frank walked over and sat down on his bed. “We don't know that there is a threat to Nancy. I told you—the card could have been anyone—”

“Yeah, but don't you think that it's a little too coincidental for that?” Joe demanded. “Come on, it's not like—I think it's kind of common knowledge that if there wasn't a Callie and a Ned there might be a Nancy and Frank. Zollner could have picked her on purpose, like he picked Callie.”

“There is _nothing_ between me and Nancy,” Frank insisted. “I can't even believe you're taking that there. Even if—No. There is no even if. There's just facts. Fact one—Zollner is obsessed with me. Fact two—Zollner is in prison. Fact three—Zollner likes to play mind games with me. That's all this is. If he was going to target Nancy, he'd already have done it. I've been out of the hospital for a while now. He should already have made a move, but Nancy's still free. She's got her hands full with her own life, and I don't want to drag anyone else into this.”

“It's Nancy,” Joe said, shaking his head at his brother's stubbornness. “She'd _want_ to be involved, and I still don't buy you not wanting to at least warn her about this. That's not like you.”

Frank looked at his hands. “I don't want anyone else knowing about the notes.”

“Damn it, Frank, the hell did he say to you that's got you like this? It's not _your_ fault you have a stalker. You didn't do anything wrong. You don't have to be ashamed of it. Everything that's wrong here is wrong with him, not you,” Joe said, going over to his brother's side. “Come on. This isn't like you. You don't ignore threats. Unless... you think telling Nancy will put her in more danger?”

Frank opened his mouth, shut it, and then closed his eyes. He took a breath and let it out again. “I don't know. I don't know what to think or—I don't trust myself. Zollner is driving me crazy. My judgment is so flawed...”

“No, it isn't,” Joe told him, searching his brain for something to prove it. He grabbed his phone and did a quick search, knowing he was right. “Look. You said that was the hinkiest name, right?”

Frank checked the screen and then looked at Joe. “He's... dead?”

* * *

“You're quiet.”

Nancy forced a smile for Ned's sake, wishing she felt anything close to genuine. She hadn't gotten much sleep last night. It had helped, talking to George, but it wasn't enough. She couldn't relax, and her internet research had fascinated her as much as it left her a guilty mess. She'd done as much as she could to look into the three victims, and while she thought Jensen Haggard's death was the most suspicious of them, it could still be a pattern, and it was one she wanted to unravel.

Trouble just _found_ her, she knew that, but this time, she'd sought it out on purpose.

“I was thinking,” she began, looking at him over her coffee. “I think it's time we discussed where we were going. I know I promised we'd keep this open, but I have to admit, I'm not comfortable with that. Yesterday was proof enough for me.”

“I wanted to surprise you,” Ned said, sounding hurt, and she wasn't sure she blamed him.

“I know,” she agreed, “and normally, I'd like that, but this isn't normal, Ned. We both know that. What we need is—”

She broke off as her phone beeped. She frowned, knowing Ned was doing the same. She took it out and checked it, seeing a new text from Joe. He wanted her to call and said it was urgent. She didn't even have to look at Ned to know how well that would go over, so she put the phone back away. 

“We need open, honest communication between us,” she finished. “I know you feel like I was lying to you—and omission counts, yes, but I didn't know how to tell you what I suspected of Gary. And we can't go on like this. We're actually making things worse instead of better.”

Ned looked at her. “Is this the part where you blow up at me for being controlling when I ask you about the papers in the trash?”

She flushed. “I couldn't sleep, so I read the articles. And I did more research. I was about to tell you about that. I just... needed to lead up to it more.”

Ned sighed. “I shouldn't be making you feel guilty for being what you are. You're a woman who can't resist a mystery.”

She smiled slightly. That much was true. “I do think the deaths are connected, but it's not my case, and I doubt they'd be very understanding about me butting in on it. Which is why I wanted to talk about where we were going. I want to give myself something else to think about in the meantime.”

Ned shook his head. “Nancy Drew turning down a mystery. Now this is something I never thought I'd see.”

She tried not to bristle at his words. She was really trying here, and he wasn't making this easy. She decided to pretend he meant that as a joke. “Well, I could always offer my services to the local authorities or even call Joe—”

“No, no,” Ned said quickly. He gave her a winning smile. “If I told you we'll be at our destination tonight, is that enough?”

No, it wasn't, but Nancy had the unpleasant feeling it would have to be.

* * *

“We are going. If you don't pack for yourself, I will pack for you, and you'll hate me for it.”

Frank shook his head. Joe was jumping in head first again. While he agreed that it was more than a little suspicious that the name he'd picked out belonged to a man who had died under mysterious circumstances, he did not know that it merited rushing off on the first plane they could get, especially since he'd just had another incident and Joe was all bent on making that card a direct threat against Nancy as well.

“We are not going. I am not going. You are overreacting again.”

Joe yanked open Frank's dresser and started pulling out clothes, throwing them on the bed. “I am not overreacting, but in a minute, I'm going to start shaking you and trying to figure out who you are and what the hell you did with my brother.”

Frank tightened his jaw as he glared at his younger brother. “That's not funny.”

“I know it isn't! That's why you need to tell me what is really going on here. Did Zollner actually threaten you if you did any investigating? Is that it? Has he told you he'll hurt more of us if you try to be yourself?”

Frank winced, not wanting to think about how close Joe was with all his theories, or the words on the cards he'd burned as soon as he read them. The words hadn't faded, but he never wanted those ones read by anyone else. Zollner won that round, too. “I'm not...”

“Please. If there's something going on, you need to tell me.”

Frank shook his head. “Zollner and I are fighting a war where the battlefield is my mind. I don't know all of what is real and what isn't. The most direct threats he made to me were when I was in his hands—and when he turned Callie against me. I still don't...”

“Don't what?” Joe prodded after Frank let that silence go on.

He sighed. “I think he just wanted me to kill her. He never intended for her to be able to survive that. He just wanted... He wanted me to kill her.”


	8. Destinations and Beginnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nancy and Ned reach their destination. Frank and Joe disagree about starting their trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally did it. I got Nancy's case to its start.
> 
> Which is kind of sad it took me so long to do, but at last it is there.

* * *

“Well?”

Ned's voice was expectant, and Nancy tried to summon up the enthusiasm she knew he wanted and maybe even deserved. She didn't have it, not after their drive and all that was festering between them. She wasn't up to pretending she was happy about all of the secrecy— _well played, Ned, well played_ —and now to try and fake that was almost impossible.

“It's impressive,” she began, choosing the honest route because it was. She'd never figured on something quite like this, the scenic little getaway, something out of a brochure or a movie, a quiet, Victorian home that claimed to be a bed and breakfast but was more like a mansion. The architectural wonder was hidden away next to a gorgeous lake with grounds stretching far out beyond it. She could see various sports courts as well as what looked like a huge garden maze.

“My parents came here on their fifth anniversary,” Ned said, smiling up at the building, making her feel worse when she heard about his connection to this place. And the word anniversary.

When was the last time she'd actually been there when he planned out something for theirs? Or had that ever happened? Why was he still with her, anyway? She always let the mysteries come first, and she always would. Who wanted to play second fiddle to a puzzle?

“Nancy?”

She looked right at him, the words coming from her mouth before she had a chance to stop them. “Why are you still with me, Ned? Is it habit or comfort? Are we just doing this because we're used to it? What do we have in common—and why would you want me when I treat you like I do?”

Ned stared at her. “You're not actually considering breaking up with me right now, are you?”

She drew in a breath, letting it out again as she tried to find the right words. “I agreed with Bess that this trip was a good idea because we had so many issues to resolve, but I was only thinking of Gary and that last case. I wasn't thinking about the other ones, ones that go deeper and might mean that all of this is... We can't only deal with the issues on the surface. All of this needs to be resolved, or it isn't worth it.”

“Is that an ultimatum?”

Nancy grimaced. “I am not saying this because I want to fight with you. I am saying this because I genuinely want to fix what's wrong with it. I see now it's not just what I thought it was, that I was only going to do a patch, a band-aid over what's wrong, but you deserve better than that. You know I'm right. We need to do this properly. No running away or saying we're okay with things that we're really not. I can't change what I've done that's hurt you if you won't tell me that I've done them. And I can't bury everything I've felt for the sake of keeping the peace, either. That's not how it works. I need to actually talk to you. And I want to. I want to try and find some way of fixing us.”

Ned sighed. “It's not that I don't, Nancy, but you're piling things on a little high right now. I just wanted us to have a few minutes here to enjoy ourselves. We haven't even checked in, and you're on a mission to rehash everything we've ever done.”

She almost rolled her eyes. That wasn't it at all, and he should know it, but maybe he was afraid of looking too deep into their problems. Maybe she was as well.

“Fine. I think I'll take a walk through the maze. I'd like to wander a bit and clear my head.”

“Trust you to find another puzzle to work on,” Ned said with that same old tired sense of resignation and affection. She tried to smile back at him, but it didn't work. She shouldn't be causing him that kind of pain.

She let him head in to register them and turned toward the hedge. She felt like getting lost for a while. Maybe even forever.

* * *

“Frank.”

When his brother didn't meet his eyes, Joe resorted to other measures. He knelt down in front of Frank and raspberried right in his face. Frank reached up and wiped off his cheek, shoving Joe back before shaking his head. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Seriously? You're asking _me_ that? Of the two of us, who has been acting like a strange half-shell of himself lately? A big, guilt-ridden mess of guilt and... guilt.”

“Very nice,” Frank muttered, and Joe shrugged. At least his humor still had some effect on his brother. He didn't know what he'd do if it didn't. He needed all the help he could get with Frank these days. It would be too easy to lose him to that war in his head—they almost had, Joe was sure of that—and he wasn't willing to let it happen.

“You have logic. I need a gimmick of my own.”

Frank shook his head. “Not a gimmick.”

Joe just ignored it. He wasn't going to argue about logic right now. Frank wasn't up for that, and Joe needed everything he had to convince his brother to leave his room again. He wanted to believe that Zollner _had_ threatened Frank—then it all made sense, the reluctance to leave, the depression... They all had a root cause that could be fixed, and Joe wanted to fix Frank more than anything.

“I have an idea—and it's a crazy one, I know because you say all of my ideas are—but I was just thinking—what if the best way to win this war is to go out there and do what Zollner's been keeping you from? If you're working, you can't be obsessing over him and what he's done every minute. And his hold on you lessens because he can't control your work. You'd be helping people _and_ stopping him. Admit it, big brother—ending his hold on you means not letting him win, and he's winning the more that you stay locked up in here, doing nothing. He makes you question your judgment—so prove it to yourself until you believe it.”

“Oh, now I know my judgment is flawed,” Frank muttered. “You're talking sense.”

Joe almost hit him, but he held back, not needing to hurt him. “I can be very persuasive, remember? So now... You are going to get on a plane with me and you _are_ going to help me investigate this suspicious death, aren't you?”

Frank frowned. “I never said that. I don't think that's a good idea at all. If you want to go look into it, talk Dad into going. I'm pretty sure he would. Leave me out of this. I can't do it, Joe. We both know that. I'd just end up getting someone else hurt, and that is not happening. So go. Leave me alone. If you don't, then I'll make you go, and you will regret it.”

Joe did hit him then. “Go ahead. Maybe a good fight is what you actually need, you idiot. Stop letting Zollner get to you. You need to get out there and show this jerk he hasn't won. He might think he can reach you from prison, but only if you keep giving him ways to do it. And you won't.”

Frank glared at him. “Get out.”

“You know I won't.”

“I hate you.”

“You don't mean that,” Joe said, because he knew Frank didn't. His mind was full of dark things and his emotions were all over the place, but Frank didn't really hate him. He was worried about the risk—and it was a risk—of going out and trying to put his skills to work on a case where lives might be at stake, but he needed to get over that, and Joe could help him do it. Frank had helped him when Iola died. He could do this.

“Joe, I can't.” Frank's voice came out in an anguished whisper. “I can't go. Can't work a case...”

“You can. You will. We're going to do this together. Like always. You've got me, and I won't let anything happen.”

Frank snorted. “You're the one that always goes off and gets in trouble. What am I going to do if I lose you? I barely function as it is.”

“I swear I will be extra careful.”

“Joe—”

“We can do this. I promise. You got me to go on after Iola. You think I can stand back and let you wallow? You think that's what Callie would want—and don't start on how they changed her; that's not an excuse—because it isn't. She wouldn't want to see you like this.”

“She doesn't want to see me at all. I almost killed her,” Frank whispered. “I... she... I thought it was over when I broke her wrist, but it wasn't enough. That mental hold they had on her was too strong and she... she just kept coming and I...”

“You defended yourself,” Joe insisted. “Were you supposed to lay back and let her kill you? That's insane. It's one thing to believe I should have been in the car—because that bomb _was_ meant for us—and it's another to roll over and die because you couldn't dare hurt the girl you were dating when she went psycho. That wasn't her doing, either. She doesn't deserve to suffer for that, and neither do you.”

Frank lowered his head. “You stayed close because you've been worried about me.”

“Oh, hell,” Joe said when he caught the implications of those words. “You think that bastard will go after me, don't you?”

“Everyone does,” Frank said. “It's like this... rule or law... Hurt Joe so Frank can't think and... If I had to hurt you like I did Callie...”

“You won't.”

“You don't know that.”

* * *

“So, did he drug you to get out of the house?”

Frank almost laughed, though it wasn't that funny. He looked over at his brother, seeing Joe grip the wheel tighter. Flying would have been faster, but even Joe, with his stubborn insistence on thinking things would be fine, was willing to risk Frank having one of his incidents on a plane. “Oh, I think he was close. Then again, with the way I feel lately, it would be hard to tell if I was drugged or not. Though I am kind of wondering why you're calling me instead of him or someone else.”

“Joe is driving,” his mother said with an amused tone to her voice. “He can't pick up the phone right now—or at least he shouldn't.”

Frank tapped on the glass of the window. “Did you help him with this?”

“I think you need to do what is best for you, even if you're having difficulty seeing just what that is right now,” Laura told him, choosing her words carefully. “The last thing your father or I want is to see you hurt more, but you also need to balance that risk with what you love to do and who you are—and the fact that you have done a world of good out there.”

“You'd be lying if you said you liked having me, Joe, and Dad out there fighting crime.”

“I'm not in love with the idea, no. I hate worrying about the ones I love, and I don't want to lose my children. That's something I'm not ready as a mother to face. You're still my babies and always will be. I carried you, changed your diapers—”

“Mom—”

“—And that's a bond I can't understand anyone breaking, though I know it's not always like that,” Laura finished. “So, no, I don't want anything to happen to you, but I also can't stand to see you the way you've been for the past month, either. You were wasting away and we were all powerless to stop it. If this is that way, Frank, I want you and your brother to take it.”

“I don't know that I think it is,” Frank said, glancing at his brother. “If doing this means he has access to Joe or one of the rest of you—”

“Don't think that way,” his mother advised, but how could Frank not? He couldn't just shut off his brain like it was nothing. It didn't work that way. He'd tried. He'd been trying since he got away from Zollner. Unfortunately, everything since then had just gotten worse.

_“You may think you've won, Franklin, but this isn't a victory,” Zollner said as they tried to shove him in the squad car. He smirked as he pushed away from the door. “You know it isn't. I'll be with you every second of every day. You know I've left my mark.”_

_Frank gagged, and Joe frowned at him, doing his best to keep him standing. Fenton took his other side, but Frank would rather just collapse. Standing here watching Zollner go away should be satisfying. He should feel free._

_Except Zollner was right. He didn't. He wasn't free, and he didn't think he ever would be again._

“Frank?”

He shuddered. “I'm sorry. I think I zoned out again, Mom.”

“Just a little,” she muttered, and he could hear the fear in her voice. He looked around to see that Joe had pulled off the highway onto the shoulder. Cars were rushing past them, and Frank cursed as he realized they could have been in an accident just now.

“I'm fine,” Frank said. “Ask Joe if you don't believe me.”

He hung up and closed his eyes, curling up in the passenger seat. He'd been afraid of this, and now it was just like what he'd envisioned when he tried to talk Joe out of this trip.

“You freaked her out.”

Frank nodded. He knew that. “How long was I out?”

“Not that long. I wouldn't have noticed if Mom hadn't started screaming at you through the phone. You sure you're okay?”

Frank laughed. “Are you kidding me?”

“We are going to get through this,” Joe insisted. “I'm not giving up on you. You know that. You're strong enough to beat this. Maybe not alone, but with my help... we can do it.”

_Until Zollner realizes that you're what's keeping me sane and decides to eliminate you from the picture. If I was still close to any of the others, if I had talked to the guys or anyone outside the family, they'd be at risk, too. Just like you think Nancy is._

“If Zollner is using these identities, we want him stopped, remember?”

Frank nodded. “It's not that. I know we need to stop them.”

_I just don't think I am capable of stopping anyone right now._

* * *

Nancy should have grabbed a sweater from the car before she headed into the maze. Evening was coming in, and the sunset had brought with it a chill that had her shivering a little as she walked through the winding paths. She didn't want to go inside, afraid all that would lead to was another fight with Ned. She didn't know how she was going to get him to understand—they had more things to work out than just Gary and she wasn't stopping there.

She wasn't going to keep on hurting him or lying about how she felt to keep the peace. She couldn't do that. It wasn't fair to either of them. Love should have trust, and she didn't think Ned trusted her. She'd done her best to show him that she did trust him—but that, too, was a lie. Wasn't it just last night she'd been asking George if Ned could have been involved in something like Gary was?

That was paranoia, sure, and she didn't really believe it, but for it to even come to mind, there must be a disloyal part of her that did think he was capable of that. Maybe she'd been too influenced by what had happened to Callie.

Nancy sighed. That reminded her. She still hadn't called Joe back. She should have, but she hadn't wanted to do it around Ned, not wanting to risk a fight over that, too. She took out her phone and saw she'd missed another message from Joe.

_You need to call me. Life and death. Need to talk. ASAP._

She swallowed, choking down on her gag reflex. Surely this wasn't about Frank? Joe would have called, not texted. He must be exaggerating with that line about life and death. She dialed his number, but the call failed immediately, and she cursed when she saw she had no service. She started forward, watching the screen for any changes in her reception.

No go. She'd probably have to get out of the maze to find anything, and even then it was questionable. She'd call from inside the hotel if she had to, but first she had to leave the maze.

“You screwed up. It was way too soon for Haggard's _accident,”_ a voice hissed, and Nancy stopped, looking around the hedge. She wasn't sure if the sounds were coming from directly to her left, with only one hedge to separate them, or a lot further. “Now they're suspicious. It's in the damn papers.”

“You're the one that said clean up. I'm cleaning up.”

“You're making more of a mess,” the first voice spat, and Nancy wished she could see them. She reached into the hedge, pushing back the foliage. It was a risk, but she hadn't forgotten the name Haggard, and it looked like she was right about the connection. Those deaths were murders. She didn't know why those three had died, but she might just get a peek at their killers.

“You're the one that said someone else was looking into it, checking the identities again. That if they were discovered, the whole thing could unravel, and if you really want to mess with him, then you do it, but I'm not taking any chances.”

“You're also too sloppy.”

Nancy managed to get enough of the leaves cleared to see a tall man in a gray suit with a thin black tie. She couldn't see his face at first, but then the other man, a smaller one, moved toward him. She barely caught the metal in his hand as he rammed it into the tall man's chest. Gray suit fell, his features contorted in pain, and the shorter man folded up his knife with a snort of disgust.

Just then, with perfect timing, her phone caught service and beeped to announce she'd gotten another text. Leather jacket looked over at her, and her eyes locked with his dark ones for a moment before she took off running.


	9. Roadways and Mazes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank and Joe have an interesting road trip. Nancy is lost in a maze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I have ever not complained about writing action. I really should stop finding fandoms where that is a key part of it because I can't write it and hate trying to.
> 
> I said this on my other update, but I've got company coming in from out of town and a full work schedule this week, so I may not be able to keep to my goal of a chapter/update a day for all my stories. I just won't have enough time, not with all that has to be done before they arrive and what little time I have outside of work.
> 
> Also... I know there's a part that seems like it doesn't make sense. Just... trust me on this... it works.

* * *

_“Tell me, Franklin, how many times have you been captured?” Zollner asked, turning a blade over in his hand like it was a threat. Frank wanted to roll his eyes, say something brave and stupid like Joe would, tell this guy off, but Zollner had already proved that he wasn't that kind of villain. Careful, methodical, with an organization full of people who could take the blame for him, he'd never been close to caught before, and Frank hadn't even thought he was that close when Zollner came after him._

_“More than enough,” Frank answered when the blade came close to him. Fact was, he didn't put anything past Zollner right now. The guy spoke calmly, almost detached, but he was far from predictable. He had already gone farther than most criminals had in the past._

_“And how many of those encounters left you close to death?”_

_“Do you want an exact sum? Because I have lost track. I'm sorry. I've only been doing this since I was a kid, and while that might not seem like much, I've had more experience than I should,” Frank answered. “Or were you thinking that you were somehow the first criminal I investigated?”_

_“No, no,” Zollner disagreed, moving the knife away again. “I know you are not inexperienced... in that sense, at least. In others, I think perhaps you were.”_

_Frank tensed. “What's that supposed to mean?”_

_“Well, tell me,” Zollner said, and Frank was starting to hate those words and the sickening way Zollner said them, like they were some kind of magic password that would get Frank talking, make him say almost anything. “How many times did they injure you immediately? How many times did they leave you for dead instead of making sure that was done? How many of them stood there and gave you monologues?”_

_“Again—are you asking for an exact count?”_

_“I am suggesting,” Zollner leaned into Frank, “that you were not prepared for the sort of person who sees his threats through to the end. Everyone with you leaves you some sort of way out. You'll be rescued in time or you'll be able to free yourself and get the drop on them while mid-speech. Whereas I went right to the taking and have seen to it that you remain secured.”_

_“Yeah, well, if you were planning on killing me, you're still pretty damn slow at that,” Frank muttered, wanting to stop that man from gloating. What he'd done was sick enough. Frank didn't need the reminders—or the threat of more._

_“You amuse me, Franklin, assuming that death is my end goal with you.”_

_That made Frank still, tension tightening already aching muscles. “What do you mean?”_

_Zollner just laughed._

“Well, clearly I can't count on you for any of the driving on this trip,” Joe said, and Frank hit the door with the sound of his brother's voice. He cursed, rubbing at his funny bone and grimacing. Joe would have laughed at him under other circumstances, but Joe wasn't laughing right now.

He was giving Frank that half-worried, half-pitying look that everyone gave him and that he was so damn sick of by now. He knew he had issues—he couldn't pretend he didn't—and he knew that he worried people, but he didn't want to see it reflected all the time. He couldn't help the way he was—everything he knew to combat it he was already doing.

Well, no, there was that one lingering dark thought in the back of his head. If he went to see Zollner like the man wanted, then maybe he could end—No. He was not going. He would not do it.

“I mean... can't have you spacing out at seventy-five miles an hour.”

Frank grunted. “I don't know. Maybe having something to focus on would keep me more grounded, make it so that my mind didn't wander as much to the things I don't want to think about. Or... Or I could end up killing us and other innocent motorists.”

Joe grimaced. “No. I wouldn't let that happen. I think I could stop things if I needed to, but I'm not so sure I feel like testing that theory.”

“Me, either,” Frank agreed, looking out the window in time to see the sign telling them just how far they were from the major cities along this interstate. He frowned. “Damn. How long was I out?”

“A while.”

“A while? We're not even in New York anymore.”

Joe shrugged. “So? We're making good time. The sooner we get started on this investigation, the better. We can put to rest your doubts and maybe shut off more of Zollner's powerbase. The less he has to work with, the less he can spend tormenting you.”

Frank had a feeling that was all Zollner was interested in doing these days. That or trying to arrange some kind of escape, but given where he was, that was unlikely. Still, no prison was absolutely secure, and even in isolation Zollner kept getting messages to Frank.

“That doesn't mean we need a speeding ticket, either.”

“Listen to you. There you go again. Taking all the fun out of it. Acting like a negative Nancy.”

“I should tell her you said that,” Frank told him, and Joe laughed before almost slamming on the brakes. “Hey, watch it.”

“Nancy hasn't called me back, Frank. I sent her a message before we left, more than one, even, and she hasn't called me back.”

* * *

“I could almost enjoy you fussing over someone else for a change.”

Joe could, too, almost. Only because that sounded like Frank making a joke, and he'd missed that a lot more than he'd thought about or cared to admit. There had been a few moments here and there where Frank seemed like his old self, but there weren't many where he smiled for real or laughed without bitterness. This was one of them, even if the humor was slightly warped.

“She's not answering my texts. You'd think life and death would get someone's attention.”

Frank looked at him. “You think putting life and death in a text message really conveys the sense of urgency you want?”

Joe sighed. Frank was being logical again. Teasing, but logical, and so insufferably right. “No, it doesn't, but what am I supposed to do? Text her to say 'hey, Nancy, I think Frank's creepy criminal stalker may have targeted you' or maybe 'Frank lied about not getting more love letters from Zollner and one of them—'”

“Joe, I swear, if you call them that again, I will kill you myself,” Frank warned. He leaned against the side of the car like he might get sick. Fortunately for them both, they'd already pulled off at a rest area. Joe had needed food. Frank was obviously stir crazy—he wouldn't stop fidgeting.

“I won't,” Joe promised. Truth be told, the idea of that being why Zollner fixated on Frank was more than a little revolting. Not that Joe wasn't aware that Frank had his admirers, but Zollner wasn't the sort of person that seemed capable of affection for anyone. Joe didn't ever want to see what Zollner would consider love. “I just... I'm worried about Nancy.”

Frank nodded. “I know. Still, you know she was thinking about an absence from phones for a while. Try not to panic yet. We don't even know that there is a threat to her. Zollner could have used anyone's name.”

Joe checked his phone again, this time punching the button to make the call. He'd tried giving Nancy the chance to do it first, and he'd respected her no-contact thing as much as he was willing to. He didn't see why she'd realistically do that. She was a detective. She knew better. Cutting herself off from the world was a bad idea all around.

_“Hey, it's Nancy. I must be in the middle of something, so leave me a message, and I'll get back to you as soon as I can.”_

“Nancy, it's Joe,” he said, all mood to tease her about her uninventive voicemail greeting gone. “I've texted you and called you and—Look, we have to talk. Call me back. Please.”

“Ooh, nice touch with the begging,” Frank said when Joe hung up, and Joe glared at him. Frank was this close to pissing him off, though he supposed he might have teased some were the situation different and reversed.

“Shut up and call her.”

Frank shook his head. “This isn't about her picking me over you. If she was able to answer the phone, she would have done it for you. You're a good friend. A brother. She's not ignoring you because she's mad at you.”

“Exactly,” Joe said, shoving the phone at him. “Something's wrong, and if she's not answering because of Zollner, you will never forgive yourself.”

Frank took the phone and dialed Nancy's number. He put it on speaker and set it on the hood, waiting. The call rang and rang and rang, and Joe thought he should get a special ringer that was some kind of song, but then it connected.

Joe felt relief wash over him. “Nancy!”

“Um... Not exactly,” the voice said, and Frank backed away from the phone when he recognized it. Joe almost swore, but he bit it back.

“Ned,” Joe said. “It's Joe. Look, I need to talk to Nancy. It's important. She might be in danger.”

Ned was quiet on the other end and then finally said, “Funny you would say that...”

* * *

Nancy reached another dead end and swore, cursing herself for deciding that a maze was a good place to clear her head. Sure, it gave her something to do while she walked besides obsess over what was wrong in her life—with Ned and with her cases—and she had thought a puzzle seemed like a good idea—she wanted the challenge of finding the path out of the maze.

Now, though, she was being chased through that same maze, and she didn't have time to think out the puzzle. She couldn't afford to get caught in another dead end. Every time she did, she was that much closer to her own death. She didn't know if the man in the leather jacket was having the same trouble with the path as she was, but she couldn't count on that to save her.

Winded, she wanted to stop as she retraced her way back to the fork, choosing the other direction this time and hoping for a better result. If she could remember everywhere she'd been before Joe's text distracted her, she might be able to map out the maze in her head, but everything was getting lost in a panic, and she didn't have a safe place to hide and figure it out.

She rounded a corner and tripped, stumbling over the man in the gray suit. She bit her lip, trying to keep herself from swearing out loud. She was very lost, but if she'd come around to the other side of that hedge, that meant it was just as easy for leather jacket to do the same. He could be even closer than she'd thought.

_“What's the matter, Drew? I thought you were supposed to be fearless. The great detective Nancy Drew. She can solve any case, take down the toughest criminals in the world, and never so much as smudge her lipstick.”_

_Nancy shook her head. Even she'd never heard that exaggeration before. “I'd like to say it's because you're not that intimidating, Gary, but the truth is, I have no idea what you're capable of. You fooled everyone. We thought you were a decent person. A good friend.”_

_He snorted. “Admit it. You never liked me.”_

_Nancy reached behind her for the lamp. “No, I suppose I didn't.”_

A branch snapped near her, and Nancy shook her head, forcing herself to her feet. She was tired, but that was no excuse for letting the past distract her now, of all times. She couldn't afford to stop, and she shouldn't think about Gary. She'd survived him, and she had to concentrate on surviving this. Leather jacket was still hunting for her.

She turned onto a new path, realizing her mistake a half-second too late. She'd gone toward the branch snapping, not away from it. She'd blame the maze, not wanting to feel so stupid as to have handed herself over to a killer.

He lunged for her, and she dodged, hitting the hedge and scraping her arm on the branches as she did. She forced herself to keep going, wondering if she could make him do what she'd done and trip over the guy in the suit. Not that she had a good way to arrange it here, but if she could get them back around the circuit she'd made by accident before, then she'd have a trap set.

Armed with a plan, Nancy felt a little better until a narrower section of the maze slowed her down. She'd been through here before, but it was a lot different without him right behind her. He caught her arm and dragged her backward, letting her stumble to the ground.

“Who are you?”

She blinked. “I kind of figured you for a kill first, ask questions later type.”

Leather jacket snarled, removing his knife and opening it. She swallowed, preparing to run again when she saw the rock near the hedge. She reached for it, crying out when the blade connected with her arm. Her fingers closed around the stone, and she turned, bringing it down hard on his hand. He yelped and let go of the knife. She kicked it into the hedge, and he grabbed her wrist, twisting it as he tried to get the rock from her.

He shifted his grip, forcing her to let go of the rock. His fist connected with the side of her head, and she fell back, too dazed to stop him from hitting her again.


	10. Convergence and Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe and Frank rush toward Nancy, and things get complicated in the meantime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so... this one feels off to me, but then again, my cold moved into my sinuses and has made breathing painful all day. Work was horrible. My judgment is compromised. I have no beta (I'm not sure I can work with them, I'm this bad mess of neurosis and insecurity mixed with impatience) so if it's wrong, it's my fault. If it works, it's also my fault but likely a fluke.
> 
> And no, I am not trying to vilify Ned. His behavior has reasons. Just wait and see.
> 
> Here is a bit of irony... The final scene of this chapter was originally the first scene I ever wrote for this story, back when I conceptualized it. It's been edited over a few times now since I changed things around, but it's interesting that it took more than 20,000 words to get to it.

* * *

“Nancy.”

“My head hurts like someone bashed me over it with a rock. Joe, I am never drinking with you again,” Nancy muttered, reaching her fingers up to her head. This hangover was brutal, the worst she'd ever known, not that she was a big drinker.

“I didn't think Hardy was old enough to drink legally.”

“He's only a year younger than me and Frank,” Nancy said, blinking as she took in who was in her room. That was not Joe. And she was not hungover, though the bright lights and hospital white did not make her head feel any better.

It _had_ been bashed in by a rock.

“Ah, there it is,” Ned said, giving her a half-smile. She could see how forced it was, how he wasn't pleased by what prompted it. “Now you remember what happened. You've caught up to the real reason you're waking up in a strange place with strangers around you.”

Nancy groaned. “You are not a stranger. Just because things have been tense between us does not mean that we are strangers. Please. My head aches, and I don't want to fight. I don't even—I remember him hitting me with a rock, but I thought that was it.”

“That you had died?”

She grimaced. She'd been close. She knew that. She wasn't superwoman, and she'd been beaten in that fight. He could have killed her if he'd continued to hit her with that rock, bashing her skull in. She should be dead. “I thought I was going to, yes. I don't understand. What happened?”

“I did.”

She blinked. “What?”

Ned nodded, though he didn't seem too happy about what he was about to tell her. “I was at the desk to register when I changed my mind and came after you. I didn't know that there was any point to staying when we were fighting, so I came to make things right first. Then I heard breaking branches and someone cursing. I followed that to where you were. I managed to knock him off of you, and he ran. I... I didn't chase him. I stayed with you.”

Nancy probably would have ran after leather jacket herself. That just went to show how different she was from Ned. He'd thought of her safety and well-being first and foremost, whereas she had thought only of a killer escaping.

“Well?” Ned asked, and she frowned at him. “Aren't you going to ask me if I got a good look at him before he got away?”

She shook her head, wincing when the pain intensified again. “No. I... I got a pretty good look at him myself—him _and_ the man he killed.”

Ned watched her, and she found her fingers twisting in the fabric of her sheets, uncomfortable. She didn't know why she found his look so unsettling, but she did. “So... he killed that man before he came after you? Is that what you're saying?”

“Yes.” Nancy didn't understand why that was in question. She would have thought it would be obvious. “I... I saw him kill the man in the suit. He... They argued, the one died, and my phone went off, telling him I was there. I ran, we fought, he won. That's where you apparently came in. Why would you think that he tried to kill me and then killed someone else?”

“Well, when you say it, it sounds ridiculous.”

She forced herself to stay calm. It was difficult in the face of her raging headache and his strange behavior. “Why would you think he was after me?”

“It's what Joe Hardy seemed to think.”

* * *

“You do realize that breaking the speed limit doesn't actually make us reach our destination that much faster. I can show you the math,” Frank said, and Joe almost smacked him. He didn't want to think that Frank had somehow become cold-blooded. He had to care, but he wasn't acting much like it right now.

“Nancy's in trouble. You heard Ned.”

Frank's grip on the door handle was white. “I _know_ Nancy's in trouble, but Ned said he was getting her an ambulance and her attacker was gone. So unless you think that Ned is lying, that Nancy is already dead or something at his hands—in which case no amount of speed is going to make a difference—you don't need to get us killed trying to get to her. We won't make it there in time to change anything. That's a fact. We're still too far away. All the dangerous driving in the world is not going affect what happens to Nancy now—it will only decide whether or not we die trying to get there.”

“You know—I almost want to say that you don't care.”

“You're just doing that because you're angry,” Frank told him. “You're helpless to do anything for Nancy. We weren't there when she was attacked, and we can't get there now. So you're frustrated and taking it out on the road, trying to convince yourself that you can get us there faster, but the truth is... You're going to get us into an accident or pulled over, neither of which is going to make us reach her faster. I know you won't be okay until you see her with your own eyes, but you need to slow the car down.”

Joe shook his head, changing lanes. “Trust you to mix something that sounds all logical in with your speech, but it still sounds to me like you don't care.”

“Joe, damn it, did you manage to forget that the last time I was in a car going this fast, it wasn't exactly by my _choice?_ I should be so lucky as to sound calm instead of screaming in a hysterical panic. If you really want, I can start in on what Zollner did after driving like a maniac, but if you want me to think about Nancy and not about what that psychopath did, you need to slow the damn car down.”

Joe eased off the accelerator. He had forgotten about that. He shouldn't have, but then Frank liked to gloss over how Zollner had managed to abduct him and what happened whenever he could. He was a lot more willing to talk about what happened with Callie, and that was still difficult.

“I'm sorry, Frank. I forgot.”

Frank eased his grip off the handle, folding his hands in his lap. “I have a hundred and one triggers. I don't expect you to have them all memorized. I didn't even think it was an issue until you wouldn't slow down. I... Zollner wanted me afraid before he even started, that was why I was awake during that drive... I don't... I'm not fine. And it's not that I don't care. I just have to believe that Ned was telling the truth and Nancy will be fine. Do you understand that?”

Joe nodded. He did. He could have made some joke about the power of positive thinking, but he didn't. He knew Frank was right. He needed to believe that Nancy was fine because the way Frank's mind worked these days, the horrors he'd picture, the possibilities with Zollner and the things he did to people, the things he'd done to Callie... No, Frank really wouldn't be able to handle that being Nancy, not another friend, not someone he cared about. This could shut him down and send him back into seclusion in his room and his mind.

“Okay. Fine. I need something else I can do, then.”

Frank snorted. “You idiot. You're driving. That's enough.”

“Not when we're not close enough. It can't be.”

Frank sighed. “You did what you could. You told Nancy there was a threat—yes, I know you've been saying you didn't tell her enough over text, but there are some things you just don't say over text messages. Explaining Zollner is one of them. We don't even know that Nancy's attack is connected to Zollner. Ned didn't know who hurt her. He didn't recognize that man. We need to talk to Nancy herself. That is what we will do as soon as we get there.”

“I don't know how to stay calm while I'm waiting. You know me.”

“Yes. I do.”

“You're not helping.”

Frank stopped to think. “Well, there is always starting in on Ninety-Nine bottles of beer.”

Joe almost stomped on the gas just to spite him. “That is not funny. And now I have that song stuck in my head. I think I hate you.”

“You're not thinking about Nancy now, are you?”

As another chorus of the song passed through Joe's head, he grumbled, refusing to admit that Frank was right—though he was definitely willing to admit his brother was evil.

* * *

“I'm not sure which is worse, to be honest,” Nancy said to Joe as he came into the room, gesturing to her forehead. “This or drinking with you.”

Joe laughed, taking over the chair next to her hospital bed. Ned didn't seem pleased that he took it, but she was just glad to see Joe again. She'd seen relief wash over him the moment he got in the door, and it was good to see him smile and hear that laughter in person. She'd been missing both of those things. It had been too long since she'd seen the Hardys, but even on the phone, Joe was too worried to do much laughing. Now he was grinning, like the Joe she knew, and Nancy felt confident that things would get better from here—even if they did get a little worse along the way.

“And yet Frank was the one that managed to drink us both under the table that night. It was like he didn't even feel it,” Joe said, almost getting lost in the memories. He leaned back in the chair, shaking his head. “It's always the quiet ones. They surprise you.”

_Especially when they confess they just had another fight with their girlfriend and think it's over this time for good,_ Nancy thought. Joe had passed out before that point. Frank had blocked that part of the conversation out by the morning and said things were fine with him and Callie. And as far as Nancy knew, they had been—or Frank really would have blamed himself when she was taken. No, he was safe from that—he hadn't started investigating Zollner until after Joe's infamous party.

Would it have spared Callie, Nancy sometimes wondered, if she had split from Frank before Frank's path connected with Zollner's? Or would the outcome have been the same, with Zollner determined to use anyone he could against Frank?

“Speaking of surprises,” Nancy said, raising her hand and gesturing toward Joe, wanting to think about other things. Ned didn't seem very happy with the current direction of their conversation. She'd have to redirect it. “You, here. Now. That is a surprise.”

Joe snorted. “It wouldn't have been if you'd taken my calls. I had a lot to discuss with you, and I would have told you then that I'd managed to get Frank out of the house and in the car. We were on the road when I finally got a hold of Ned on your phone. A minor change of destination, and here we are.”

“We?”

Joe glanced toward Ned and smiled, though Nancy knew better. The “we” Joe meant was him and Frank, though why Frank wasn't here when Joe was, she didn't know. “So... when do they bust you out of here?”

Ned grunted. Nancy tried not to be bothered by his reaction. She knew he wasn't happy about her plans or the one the police had suggested, and he wasn't shy about saying so. She didn't know what she was going to do now, since she hadn't managed to do anything about their other rift yet. “Actually, Joe, the police want me to stay longer. They're hoping to catch this guy while he thinks he's safe because I'm not awake yet.”

“You're kidding.”

Nancy had been surprised by the request as well. “No, but I'm actually hoping it works. Their other option was protective custody, and if that happens, I won't be able to do anything.”

“And this is one you have to solve yourself?” Ned demanded, almost angrily. “You're a witness. Just let them do their part and find this guy. You do yours when you testify.”

“Ned—”

“Forget it. I should have remembered who I was talking to,” Ned snapped, leaving the room, and Nancy put her hand back to her head. She didn't want to have that conversation again, and not in front of Joe. This was such a mess.

“Ned wants me to leave it alone. He's worried,” Nancy said. She sighed. “I think he has as good a reason as any, but... I saw that man. I can't forget what he did, and I can't sit back and do nothing. That's not who I am, not who I will ever be.”

Joe nodded. “I know. I'm not so sure Nickerson gets that, though.”

She almost buried her head in her hands. “Ned had just gotten around to saying he was afraid to look at our relationship because he didn't want to lose me when the police showed up.” 

“Talk about lousy timing.” 

“Yeah,” she agreed with a sigh. “I don't know how to fix this.”

“Don't look at me. I am so not the right person for relationship advice.” Joe grinned, though, in spite of his words. “I do think I can help a bit with your case, though.”

Nancy managed a smile of her own. That was the Joe Hardy she knew and loved.

* * *

Frank knocked gently on the door. At her call, he opened it and stepped inside. He had expected worse, and though he'd been relieved just knowing that she was awake. She even appeared fine, other than the bandage on her forehead and her weary expression. No one looked good in a hospital gown, but Nancy managed to seem better than most—if only because she wasn't more than half-dead.

And because Frank couldn't help comparing her to the image of Callie in a similar position, the way she'd been hurt, all the bandages and bruises and machines keeping her alive—sometimes he thought if they hadn't, it would have been a kindness, but he hated himself for it.

He forced himself forward, not willing to dwell on Callie, not now. He touched his fingers to the flowers from Bess as he passed close to the bed. She'd picked things that were bright and cheery, though Frank wasn't sure that was the right choice for someone who'd almost been killed.

Flowers weren't exactly something he found comforting anymore.

He cleared his throat as he reached the bed. “Hey.”

“That all you got, Hardy?” Nancy asked, reaching up to touch her head, wincing when she grazed the bandage. “I'm sure I don't look _that_ bad. He missed.... Thanks to Ned.”

“Your hero,” Frank said with a smile. She grimaced. She didn't need to be rescued most days, and she probably didn't want to be reminded of that, even with her tendency to find trouble. She could take care of herself. He knew he hated it when Joe reminded him of the times when he'd rescued Frank. Or he had until he'd become basically dependent on his brother to function. “I don't think he was very happy to pick up your phone just after that and have us on the other end.”

“I have to admit—I was surprised when Joe came in without you.”

Frank tensed. He hadn't understood all of that himself. He knew that Ned was upset—justifiably so, since Nancy had almost been killed, again—but their last interaction was more hostile than usual. Tension he expected, since mistakes had been made in the past, but with as much time as had gone by and as much of a mess as Frank was now, why did any of that matter?

“What is it?” Nancy prodded, and Frank swallowed. He should have known she would press. She was Nancy Drew, after all.

“I thought it better not to try and see you when Ned was around,” Frank answered after a moment. She watched him, waiting for more. He sighed. “When Ned found out that we were here—that _I_ was here—he blew a fuse. I have to assume it was because he almost lost you—the stress got to him. He wanted to blame this attack on me. You really scared him, Drew. You'd better stop that.”

Nancy frowned. “I know he was short-tempered with Joe, and he's not happy about the plan the police have, and we _have_ been fighting, but it wasn't about you. I know he's never been entirely comfortable with you being my friend, but this is—it's not about that, and it's ridiculous. This trip was supposed to _fix_ things. I never thought...”

“We never do,” Frank said, shaking his head. Sure, he'd had concerns about putting Callie in danger before, and they'd fought over him wanting to keep her out of his cases. He'd thought about her being targeted before, hit by accident like Iola, but what Zollner did had still blindsided him. He still couldn't believe he hadn't seen it coming, but then he'd failed to realize just how twisted Zollner was.

“Frank, this is not your fault.”

He snorted, the sound barking out almost hysterically. “Isn't it? Joe thinks it is. He thinks because Zollner is still sending me messages—that because he sent one pretending it was from you—he thinks you're a target. And it is my fault. I brought Zollner down on all of us.”

Nancy pushed the guardrail down on her bed and put her legs over the edge, crossing to his side. “Listen to me, Hardy. The guilt is talking, not you. Zollner wants you to believe everything that goes wrong is wrong because of you because that way he hurts you without even trying, but you didn't hit me with that rock and you didn't kill the man in the suit. You had nothing to do with them.”

Frank shook his head. “We were on our way to track down names I think are related to Zollner, and if they are, if that's what you got mixed up in, then it is my fault and even if it isn't—those flowers aren't from Bess.”

“What?”


	11. Inevitable Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nancy gets filled in on more of what's happening. Frank reaches some unpleasant conclusions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was it obvious? I'm sure it was obvious... It feels so obvious...

* * *

“Okay, quick—do I go after Frank or do I help you back to bed with a promise to kick his ass later for whatever it is he just did or said?” Joe asked, rubbing his shoulder where Frank had barreled into it in his hurry to leave Nancy's room. He focused on her, watching her reaction even as a part of him wanted to turn and go after Frank no matter what Nancy said.

She sighed as she sat back down. “I'm not sure... Frank seemed fine at first, we were talking—mostly small talk but then the subject went to Ned—who apparently overreacted to Frank's presence, something you neglected to tell me.”

Joe grimaced, knowing a response was almost demanded by her implication, though he didn't know that he had time for this right now. “I didn't want to seem like I was tattling on Ned. I know he and Frank don't mix, but that's not really an excuse for what happened.”

Nancy's lips thinned and her eyes darkened as she folded her arms over her chest with determination, the kind Joe knew wasn't worth fighting against. “What _did_ happen?”

Joe hesitated. He didn't really want to tell her, since it was bound to cause problems. She was already fighting with Ned. This would not help. It was going to make things worse, and he didn't want to do that.

_“We're here to see Nancy Drew,” Joe told the nurse at the counter. He gave her a winning Hardy smile, hoping it would have the usual effect on Frank. An eyeroll would be welcome under the circumstances. Even a lecture._

_“Are you family?” The nurse asked, and Joe wished he could see her badge, since charming people was always easier with a name, but she must have been wearing it near her waist, leaving it covered by the desk._

_“In another life, we could have been,” Joe told her with a wink, earning a glare from his brother. Good. Frank was still with him, and him being annoyed—well, that was strangely a good thing. “As it is, we're all just really good friends.”_

_“Well, she is restricted to family only—”_

_“What are you doing here?”_

_That angry, familiar voice made the brothers turn. Neither of them had much of any warning before Ned had taken hold of Frank by the shirt and slammed him up against the wall, knocking the wind out of him._

_“You. This is all your fault,” Ned accused. Joe winced. Those were the_ last _words Frank needed to hear right now. He'd believe them._

_“I'm calling security,” the nurse began._

_“Hold on,” Joe said, going to Ned's side and pulling on his arm. “Let go. Frank hasn't done anything wrong. He wouldn't even have left the house if I hadn't dragged him out of it, so if you're going to take it out on someone, make it me.”_

_Ned blinked, staring at him. “What?”_

_Joe eased him back, not trying to start the fight up again. Ned seemed a little confused, and Frank used the opportunity to free himself. “I'll go.”_

_Torn between holding Ned back and going after his brother, Joe hesitated. “Frank—”_

_“It's better this way. I wasn't ready for this anyway.”_

_Joe cursed, knowing that those hundred and one triggers Frank had included hospitals. He wanted to go after his brother, but Ned was still standing there and the nurse still held the phone. He couldn't risk having her call security. He didn't want to get kicked out of the hospital. He had to at least warn Nancy. Then he could see to Frank._

_“I need to see Nancy. It's important.”_

_Ned nodded. He still seemed a little distracted, but Joe could almost swear he had no idea what he'd done to Frank. “Come on. She's this way.”_

Nancy frowned. “I know I've got a concussion, but that's just weird. He attacked Frank and then just... stopped?”

Joe nodded. “Yeah. Soon as he realized what he was doing. He just lost it for a second.”

Wrapping her arms around herself, Nancy shivered. “Ned has been through a lot lately, but he's not usually like that. It doesn't seem like him. And if he really didn't remember what he did to Frank—You don't think...”

“Think what?” Joe prodded after she was silent for too long.

She swallowed. “It's extremely paranoid to think that they could have... done to Ned what they did to Callie, right?”

Joe grimaced. He didn't want to have that thought, but if he wasn't the only one, then things were worse than he'd believed when he talked Frank out of the house. Damn it. “Not really. I mean, half the reason we're here is because Zollner threatened you.”

“What?” Nancy was on her feet again, and Joe almost had to stop her from rushing from the room. He didn't know if she was going to try and find Frank—or Zollner. “When?”

“Zollner has this... habit. A creepy one, but it's how we know it was him—done on his orders, I mean, that sicko is still in prison,” Joe said, making a note to check again, even if he'd already called about that once today. “It was a card sent in a batch of flowers supposedly from you. They went to Frank at the hospital. Frank only looked into them recently. I guess... he couldn't take it before.”

“Joe,” Nancy began, her face betraying her fear. “Frank said those flowers weren't from Bess.”

“Damn.”

* * *

Frank leaned against the outside of the hospital, his hand shaking as he took the card out to confirm his suspicions. He switched light spectrums on his phone and checked it with a shudder. Damn it. This shouldn't be happening. It wasn't even ,em>possible. It shouldn't be, at least, though it was. It had to be, because he was staring at another message from Zollner.

Unless he was hallucinating—if his brain had broken that far, which Frank knew was possible as well. He didn't want that to be the case, though part of him might actually prefer it over another message from that bastard.

_You have such interesting friends, Franklin. Shame they lead such dangerous lives._

Frank felt bile come up his throat, and he choked it down, leaning back and closing his eyes, trying to calm his stomach. He didn't feel like puking today, but then he hadn't felt in control of much for the past year. Everything since Zollner was one giant example of the universe kicking him when he was already down.

Sometimes he didn't know why he was stupid enough to get back up again.

He opened his eyes and lifted his phone, making a call. He knew Joe checked daily to be sure that Zollner was still behind bars, but Frank had stopped bothering. It didn't matter because Zollner didn't need to be free to get to him.

“Carter.”

“I want to see Zollner.”

The agent on the other line choked, recovering badly for someone supposedly trained and charged with upholding the law. “Hardy? That you? Are you insane?”

“That is something that has been debated lately with no satisfactory answer,” Frank told him. Carter wasn't an idiot. He knew what Frank's status was. They kept tabs on him, and Frank knew it. He was their main witness against Zollner, in some ways considered the expert on him and even some others like him. He'd consulted on a couple other cases before Callie was taken, and even when she was back and supposedly recovering. They used to need him.

Now he was considered unreliable.

Carter swore. “You can't. You know that's just handing him what he wants, and we're not doing that. He only wants to gloat, so don't let him do it. You don't need the grief.”

“I want to see him,” Frank repeated. “Make it happen.”

“Zollner is isolation in a maximum security facility. He's not seeing anyone,” Carter said. “And even if he was, I don't like the idea of giving him you. You know that he's got some kind of... obsession with you. The danger of putting you in the same room with him—”

“Doesn't change anything,” Frank said. “He's still taunting me and threatening me from in there. Let me see him face-to-face. I'd rather confront this thing at the source. Get me in to see him.”

“He hasn't had contact with anyone. He can't possibly be threatening you.”

Frank pinched his nose, frustrated. Sometimes people got too hung up on the facts or what they believed to be true, and they just couldn't see past it. He knew he'd been guilty of it himself, and Joe had paid the price for it—so had Callie and so many others. He knew he'd probably make that same mistake again, though he would try not to.

“He hasn't come after me directly. He never does. He's using my friends and family instead.”

“Zollner is in isolation,” Carter insisted. “He can't be getting messages in or out. He has no way of contacting you or anyone else. You are safe. Your family is safe. Your friends are safe. The paranoia is getting to you, and that is what Zollner wants, but you are fine.”

“Oh, really?” Frank demanded, wanting to bang his head against the brick of the hospital wall. “Then explain to me how my friend got a bouquet of flowers from him today. How he knew she was in the hospital and had them ready, how he sent them pretending to be one of _her_ friends. Zollner is stalking everyone I have ever been connected to. You have to get me in to see him so that I can end this thing. If it means giving Zollner what he wants—”

“We are not giving him you. That is not an option. We'll start an investigation into this.”

“I don't want a damn investigation. I want to—”

“Don't do anything stupid. Remember, Zollner hasn't been tried for all of his crimes yet. That includes the ones he committed against you and your girlfriend. If he succeeds in intimidating you, that bastard will walk. We need you whole and stable to keep this guy where he belongs.”

“Where he belongs is in the ground,” Frank snapped, hanging up the phone.

* * *

“I want to say that Frank's just being paranoid.”

Nancy looked at Joe, shaking her head. He said he wanted to believe that, but he didn't. He didn't want to see his brother succumbing to the stress and pressure and slowly losing his mind to what Zollner was doing to him. “You don't.”

“No, I don't.”

“Pass me that bag from the closet. The one with my clothes.”

Joe reached for them, carrying them across the room to where Nancy sat on her bed. She could have gotten up to get to them herself. She wasn't that injured, though her head still ached worse than that hangover and the concussion made her dizzy every now and again. He set the bag on the bed and looked at her.

“You know, as much as I've done it, as Frank's done it, and I know you've done it, running around with a concussion isn't the brightest of ideas. What if you lose your balance and fall? What if you end up hurting yourself more? Or worse, what if you puke on me?”

Nancy laughed. Trust Joe to throw that one in on her. “I'll do my best not to, but you have to admit, we can't leave your brother alone with this. The guilt was already eating him alive, and if he is right about that message—”

“And what about the murder you witnessed and the police's plan?” Joe interrupted. “Not that I want to put anything above Frank's well-being, but you know that some killers do go after witnesses, trying to make it so they get away with one murder by committing two. This guy is still out there, and you know he wants you dead.”

Nancy nodded, stopping as soon as the nausea kicked in again. “I do, and I don't want to ignore that threat, but we're not talking about a bit of paranoia on Frank's part. If we're right about this, then it's entirely possible that Ned...”

Joe swore again, loudly. “Ned left before Frank came in to see you, and I haven't see him. This is not good. I mean, I don't want to believe that—Ned hasn't disappeared for any extended time, not like what happened to Callie, so that shouldn't even be possible, but until we can be sure...”

“Exactly,” Nancy finished for him, her own thoughts troubled. Was it possible that even Gary wasn't as much of a monster as they'd all believed? Could he have been manipulated like Callie was? And was that what was behind all of Ned's strange behavior? “Are we _sure_ Zollner is still in prison?”

“I check every morning. So does Frank, though he doesn't admit it. I can't figure out how he's pulling all these strings, but everyone says Zollner's still behind bars.”

“He can't have that much reach.”

“He can if he has a partner,” Joe said, a new sense of horror showing itself on his face. “Frank never really caught that, never put it forward as a theory, but if Zollner had a partner, he could be keeping this whole thing going. He wouldn't need orders from the inside. He could do it on his own.”

“Yes,” Nancy agreed. “That all makes sense. Too much sense. We're going to have to find Zollner's partner. The whole Jensen Haggard case and the gray suit—that will have to wait.”

Joe stilled. “Wait—what about Haggard?”

* * *

“Frank?”

The voice stopped him, and Frank turned to look at the man who'd spoken. “I thought we had an unspoken agreement. You're Nickerson. I'm Hardy. Never the two shall meet. Or was that not what the whole wall slam earlier meant?”

Ned ran a hand through his hair. “I... I don't know what that was.”

“Years of pent up frustration and resentment, I suspect,” Frank told him, letting out a breath. “Speaking of those things, I have to go find a certain FBI agent and deck him for being an idiot, and then I think I have to go kill a man in prison, but it's nice chatting with you, really.”

Nickerson frowned. “You... don't mean that, do you?”

Frank only wished he was kidding. He had a feeling that killing Zollner was the only way he'd have peace again. “What do you want?”

“To apologize.”

“Don't. Please. I don't want to have to forgive you because I'm not sure I can,” Frank said with surprising honesty. “I do need to go talk to the FBI, though. It's not just a—”

“You're something of an expert on PTSD, aren't you?”

“If you mean I'm a classic case of it, I guess, but then again—”

“Have you ever done something and had no memory of doing it? Like you were there one second, not there for a while, and then back again, not remembering what you did?” Nickerson looked frustrated and confused. “Because that is what happened up there. I have never really liked you, and I don't think I ever will, but I've also never gone straight for your throat, either. It wasn't like I thought about it and went for it. I didn't realize I'd done it until your brother was pulling me off and telling me to hurt him instead.”

“And if you had, you still would have been fighting me,” Frank said. He frowned. “You... have absolutely no memory of touching me up there?”

“No. I don't know how it happened. If I'd been pissed off and grabbed you, you'd think I'd have known and I'd have had a damn good reason—like if you were kissing Nancy—but you were just... there. And I lost it. I don't know how it happened. I... I am sorry.”

_Callie brushed tears out of her eyes, dropping the knife on the floor. Frank didn't understand the blood there or that it was his, not really. “I don't... I'm sorry, Frank. I don't know that happened. I didn't... I wouldn't hurt you.”_

_He put a hand on his side with a grimace. “It must have been an accident. I'm fine.”_

_“I really don't know how that happened,” Callie repeated, sounding desperate. “I didn't... I'm sorry.”_

Frank's eyes snapped back to Nickerson, and he swallowed hard. “Get away from me. Now.”


	12. Dangerous Debates

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wild theories and near panic are everywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does anyone else ever react a point in their stories where they think everything they write is crap and wonder why they ever started writing the story? I think it happens to me every time, and I'm definitely there now. :(
> 
> Oh... For anyone wanting more details on what happened with Callie... You will likely regret it as I gave a bad one. It isn't graphic, but it did unsettle me a lot. :(

* * *

“Nancy,” Joe repeated, trying to get her to focus on him again. “What was that about Haggard?”

She sighed. Both of them knew they didn't really have time for this, but Joe wasn't sure they could delay it, either. If she was saying what he _thought_ she was saying, then things were a lot worse than he'd thought.

“When Ned and I stopped at the motel yesterday—I think it was yesterday—there was an article in the paper on Haggard. He died in a suspicious manner a few days ago. It was the third of three different yet unexplained deaths in the area. I got curious after reading the article, but I hadn't researched much yet, not with Ned wanting me to stay away from mysteries.” Nancy grimaced, and Joe wondered if she was blaming herself for something—and what right did Ned have to ask her to stop doing something that was so much a part of her, anyway? “Still, when the two men were arguing in the maze, I heard one of them say that the other had killed Haggard too soon. It made people suspicious. That was right before he killed him.”

Joe sat down on her clothes. “Oh, hell. Frank might be right about it. It had to be nuts, and that was the whole point of the road trip, to prove that to him, but if he is right, then—”

“Joe,” Nancy interrupted, looking like her head hurt. “What are you talking about?”

This was going to take too long to explain. He debated saying that, but the look on Nancy's face was one that said he'd better just tell her. “Dad gave us names to investigate, ones we thought were for simple background checks—”

“Only with your father that's never the case—”

“—And Frank pegged them as whitewashes for covert activity,” Joe finished. He shook his head. “Worse than that, actually. Frank thought they were part of Zollner's organization—and Haggard was at the top of Frank's list.”

“What exactly is that list of Frank's?” Nancy asked, and Joe gave her a look. She rolled her eyes and shoved him off the bed. “I need my clothes. You can explain while I'm getting dressed. You can't give me only half of the information—my head is hurting too much. I don't like it, but I'll need things spelled out for me a little.”

Joe nodded, turning away to let her dress without making any of the comments he usually did. “Frank pegged a list of names he thought was suspicious. He had different reasons for each of them, and most of them sounded... well, to be honest, they sounded like Frank being paranoid because he is obsessing over every little detail now, like if he'd done that before he could have spared Callie somehow. He's wrong, but it's what he's doing.”

“Your brother takes responsibility too far sometimes,” Nancy agreed. “Ow. Damn it.”

“Do you need help?”

“No! Don't turn around. Finish explaining the list. Quickly.”

Joe grunted. He didn't see how spelling it out was compatible with quick, and he did wish Nancy was more capable of reading between the lines right now. They needed to go, but he'd already seen she wasn't in a state to leave on her own. He was going to need her help, though, or he'd already have left her here. “Frank prioritized the list by the ones that seemed the most hinky.”

“Seriously?”

“Okay, so that was my word for it, but it made Frank laugh,” Joe said, defensive. “He put Haggard right at the top of the list. Whatever reason he had for that, he didn't share. Now you say three people are dead in suspicious ways, and I'm thinking that all three of them are going to be on Frank's list.”

Nancy came around him, slipping her shoes on her feet. “Meaning Zollner's cleaning house?”

“Maybe.” Joe shook his head. “We don't know that the names connect to Zollner. Frank's main weakness right now is that he ties everything to Zollner. Even with a partner, that kind of reach doesn't make sense. That would take a global organization the scale of which doesn't even exist in fiction. Bond's SPECTRE isn't that well connected.”

“Zollner may not be behind the deaths of the people on that list, though I'm a little reluctant to rule out coincidence when I happen to come across that article while Ned's acting weird and then witness a murder and you were on your way to investigate the same case.”

Joe nodded glumly. “Zollner's reach is bad enough without the connection, though it's possible he's—or his partner—is just using this situation to his advantage. Zollner went after Callie when Frank got away from him. What does he gain by using Ned?”

* * *

_“Why are you doing this?” Frank asked, trying not to watch Zollner as he moved around the other side of the room. He was over there gloating, practically dancing with glee over what he'd done to Frank, and it made him sick, so sick to think of the guy enjoying what he'd done. He wouldn't watch now, wouldn't let Zollner have that, too. He couldn't gloat if Frank wasn't looking at him._

_“Do you not know how special you are, Franklin?”_

_Frank shook his head. “No. I'm not that important. No one would go to all this trouble just for me. I'm one detective in thousands. I'm not a genius. I'm not a solo act. I don't have a great memory. I'm not a prodigy. I haven't solved every case I've worked...”_

_“You are the one they said was perfect for a test run. Of course, I chose you for reasons of my own, but the others agreed. You are just the right one. Young, fit, with plenty to lose. Yes, you are so perfect.”_

_Frank shuddered, curling up against himself and yanking at the bonds again, only to hear Zollner laughing at him._

He was not at the center of some horrific conspiracy. That made no sense. Even Zollner didn't have that kind of reach, and Frank _knew_ he wasn't that important. He wasn't that special. What he and Joe did, while far from normal, was not that amazing to have put the rest of the world to shame. Sometimes their cases were laughable misunderstandings.

He moved along the wall of the hospital, trying to increase the distance between himself and Ned. He didn't want to say anything else—if they _had_ gotten to Ned, if this wasn't crazy paranoia talking—then he could trigger Ned into anything without meaning to. Just his presence had set Ned off earlier, and that was not a good sign.

“You know what, Hardy. You really are a jerk. I come to apologize and you won't even listen to me. Should have known. A guy like you... Like you'd really take responsibility for what you did.”

Frank frowned. If this was about certain incidents with Nancy that both of them had done their best to atone for and forget about, he didn't want to hear it. He'd already wrecked Callie's life, and he didn't know that he'd ever date again—if he did what he had to and killed Zollner, that was pretty much a guarantee.

He shook his head. Now was not the time to think about that. Now was the time to get away from Nickerson without triggering him again. Speaking was a bad idea, running seemed decent but potentially bad as well. There had to be _something_ that Frank had done specifically to set Ned off—and not something that was years in the past and best forgotten.

“Frank!”

He jerked, hitting the building, and Joe ran up to him, panting but worry still visible in his face. Frank shifted, putting Joe between him and Ned. Not that he wanted Joe hurt, but Frank figured he'd be less likely to set Ned off if the guy couldn't see him. Or hear him.

“There you are. I was starting to think—well, it's possible that—”

“That Zollner's people got to Ned, too?” Frank finished, seeing Joe frown. “Yeah, he said something that reminded me of Callie's behavior, so I'm aware of the possibility, yes. I'm still trying to figure out how to keep from triggering him—and why the hell I'd be his damn trigger. Why use Nickerson against me? He already hated me, so wanting to hurt me isn't out of character, not entirely, but I haven't seen him in years—haven't seen Nancy in almost as long—so they'd have to know that we knew but—”

“Slow down before you hurt yourself. I think your brain is on the verge of exploding,” Joe said, trying for a light tone and not quite making it.

Frank snorted. “How do you expect any of us to be calm right now? We all suspect that Ned has been altered by Zollner—though he hasn't had any long unexplained absences—I suppose we wouldn't know about that—and Zollner definitely knows that Nancy's here and used a card from Bess to get to me—the message was for me again—not to mention that Nancy witnessed a murder. Where is calm supposed to be in any of this mess?”

“I don't know,” Joe told him. “Normally, I turn to you for those answers. You're the calm one, though you haven't been lately. I'm not going to say you have to be that now, but even in the worst, you seem to come up with something.”

Frank closed his eyes and let out a breath. “Did you send Nancy over to take care of Ned?”

“Yes.”

“Go. Switch roles. Now.”

“What?”

“Joe, don't argue with me. Please. You want me to think this through? I am. Everything I know about Zollner and everything I went through with Callie says that it makes no sense for Ned to be programmed against me. It should be Nancy. She's the one most at risk from Ned, though I won't rule out me as a trigger because I already was once. You're going to have to be the one watching Ned for the time being. We need more people and someone in the FBI who's willing to listen when I say that Zollner is still orchestrating things despite being in isolation in prison.”

Joe winced. “Uh... we may have an explanation for that, actually.”

Frank looked at him. “Which is?”

“I'm going to go get Ned,” Joe said, and Frank rubbed his head as he watched his brother leave. Nancy was the one with a concussion, but the pain in Frank's head right now could probably give that a run for its money.

* * *

“Ned?”

He turned toward her with a frown. “Nancy, you shouldn't be out here.”

She didn't really want to be, not with the way her head was pounding and all she hadn't eaten threatening to come up on her. She didn't know how long she could stay on her feet without help, but Joe had gone straight for Frank, as usual. One thing about the brothers—nothing separated them for long. Frank was always going to be more important to Joe than the rest of the world, and vice versa.

In some respects, they were almost fortunate Zollner had chosen Callie and not Joe for his revenge. Frank would never have come back from that.

“I had to come,” Nancy said, and Ned winced. “Yes, Joe told me what happened when you saw Frank—after I pushed him about it. I got the feeling none of you planned on telling me. You I think I understand—you are ashamed of it because it's not like you and I don't see how it could have been provoked—but Joe was willing to say nothing. So was Frank.”

Ned glanced toward the brothers, frowning. “I wouldn't have thought they'd do me any favors.”

“It wouldn't have been a favor,” Nancy said. He looked at her, eyes dark with disbelief. She swallowed, not wanting to say it. “I don't know if there is any good way to say what I'm thinking. What we're all thinking...”

“I was wrong. I don't know why I went after him, but I was wrong. I tried to apologize, but he wouldn't let me. It's not like I intended to—”

“That's exactly what we're afraid of.”

Ned stared at her. She touched her head, preparing the speech in her mind. She knew that she couldn't hold it back, and she knew he'd hate her for saying it—she didn't want to believe it, but it was almost easier to believe than accept that Ned had changed so drastically. “Nancy...”

“You may have been... targeted like Callie was.”

He shook his head. “No. I wasn't kidnapped. You know that. No one tortured me. I haven't been brainwashed. It's not possible. I know I've been a little weird lately, kind of moody and hard to deal with, but _brainwashed?”_

“Nancy,” Joe interrupted before she could summon up a response to Ned's question. She didn't know how to tell him what was feeling—she didn't even know how she felt. Everything since leather jacket hit her on the head had happened so fast, and she could almost believe that none of it was real and she was still asleep. “You and I need to switch places.”

“What?” Nancy asked, her head beginning to throb again. “Joe, I don't think we—”

“You really think I'd hurt Nancy?” Ned demanded, anger in his voice. She could see him hurting Joe right now, though that was his frustration and fear talking. The possibility they had raised would horrify anyone, and Ned wasn't immune to that. “I wouldn't. You know that. Everyone does.”

“I do,” Joe agreed, nodding as he did, his voice calm and patient. “But if you _are_ under the influence of Zollner or someone working for him, you might not have a choice. Callie didn't. She did things she would never have done if she hadn't been taken by Zollner's people. She... hurt people. Including Frank, but he wasn't the only one. You haven't seen her, Ned, but if you had... You'd know you don't want that to be you. You don't want that guilt hanging over your head.”

“It's not even possible,” Ned insisted. “I haven't gone missing. I wasn't tortured. I am fine. Just... a little off my game, that's all.”

“Ned is right, though,” Nancy said. She would cling to that fact as Ned was, if she thought she could. “Ned never went missing. All of his time is accounted for.”

Joe looked at Ned. “What about vacations? Did you take a trip any time in the past year?”

“Yes, but I don't see why that matters. I remember the whole trip. Nothing happened. It was fine. I had a good time.”

“And Tahiti is a magical place,” Joe said, and Ned frowned, not placing the reference, to which Joe just groaned. “Even Frank knows that one. Where have you been? Under a rock?”

“No, just getting brainwashed, apparently.”

* * *

“At the risk of setting something off here, I'm tempted to get Frank,” Joe said. He got a glare from Ned and a frown from Nancy. He wasn't that fond of the idea himself, but they were locked in a stalemate here. Ned would just keep insisting that he hadn't been taken, and they would be stuck here until they either managed to trigger something from Ned or he won over someone's doubts.

“Frank,” Ned said unhappily, and Joe was almost certain that Frank was one of Ned's triggers.

“We do need a plan,” Nancy began, “and I'm afraid I'm not really up to creating one just now. I should be—I've worked through concussions before, but I don't know that we can trust my judgment under the circumstances.”

“And we can trust Frank's?”

Nancy caught Joe's arm before he could overreact. He took in a deep breath and forced himself to be calm in the face of Ned's words. “Look, even Frank admits he's not on the top of his game, but there are still agencies calling him to consult on their cases, and one thing none of us can deny is that when it comes to Zollner, Frank _is_ the expert. If anyone is going to know what to do now, it's Frank. I don't want to put that kind of responsibility on him, but he was the one that said that you and I should switch, Nancy. He says it doesn't make sense for him to be Ned's trigger or for Zollner to use Ned against him. If Zollner found some way of getting to Ned, he did it to hurt you, not Frank.”

“But I reacted to Frank earlier,” Ned objected. “Or... that's what everyone thinks I did, isn't it? You all think I snapped because of what I did to Frank, which even I don't understand.”

“Secondary trigger,” Joe said. “I bet that's what it is. Your first might not have been activated, but they didn't expect you to come face-to-face with Frank before it was, so they didn't think anything of including a trigger where he was concerned. I bet I'm right.”

“I'm not taking that bet,” Ned said. “You all have to be wrong about this.”

“Frank,” Nancy called, wincing at the sound of her own voice. “Come over here, please. We need your help to formulate a plan.”

Frank shook his head as he walked over to them. Ned tensed, but he didn't make any move toward Frank. They all waited, but nothing happened. Finally, Frank spoke. “You know, I don't see why you want my involvement in this if you're already ignoring my advice.”

“I am not abandoning Ned,” Nancy said. “If he really has been altered, then they did it because of me, and I need to see this through. Don't say you didn't do the same for Callie.”

Frank folded his arms across his chest and glared off into the distance. “What I did for Callie made it worse. If we're right about what we're thinking and somehow Zollner or someone else got to Ned, then he's compromised. The most innocuous things can be triggers. For Callie, one of them was a twist tie. She was unraveling it to get some bread out of the bag one minute and the next...”

“What?” Ned asked, looking genuinely concerned.

“She... um...” Joe said, not wanting to explain but not sure Frank would. “She sort of garroted the neighbor's dog.”

“That's sick.”

“It wasn't her choice. She was just making a damn sandwich and I said something about the dog. It had been a good day up until then,” Frank said, running his hand through his hair. He closed his eyes, taking a few more breaths before speaking again. “The best thing I can think of for you, Ned, is to see the doctor Callie's been working with. He's several agencies go-to doctor for PTSD and reprogramming. He may be able to uncover some of your triggers without you ever activating them, and believe me when I say I wish we could have done that for Callie.”

Nancy touched his arm. “Frank, this isn't your fault.”

Frank managed a small smile. “If I had a nickel for every time someone told me that...”

“Uh, guys,” Joe said, his eyes on Ned. “I think physical contact between you two... is one of Ned's triggers.”


	13. Plans of Action

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theories continue to be exchanged, plans of action are decided. And so on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't apologize for anything here, though I figure there is stuff that people won't be happy about. Also, I am behind because company came.
> 
> On the bright side, I got more supermysteries for my collection. I lack time to reread them, but I will.

* * *

“Joe?”

“Yeah?”

“Two words: Not. Funny.” Frank ground out the words and Nancy had to agree with him. Maybe Joe had thought it would break the tension, but all it did was make things worse, bringing up indiscretions and teenage hormones that no one was happy about. None of them needed the reminder. That wasn't going to help anything. Or anyone.

“Yeah, well, you were doing your thing... That drowning in guilt, about to have a flashback or a panic attack or both, and that's something we can't afford to let you do right now,” Joe told him, and Frank stiffened but didn't argue with him. “Be as mad at me as you want. I'm not going to back off and let you slip away. You know that.”

“Yeah,” Frank said, turning away from them.

Ned uncurled a fist, having balled it up, not when he was “triggered” but when Frank said it wasn't funny. Ned was clearly still angry but showing no real sign of being triggered. Nancy shook her head, wondering what it would take to lay his doubts about her to rest. It had been years since she worked a case with the Hardys, a full year since she'd seen either of them, even after all that Frank had been through. She was barely at the state where she could call herself friend, and yet Ned still believed the worst. What she and Frank did had broken things beyond repair. Ned would never trust her again.

It wasn't like it was just a kiss that broke it or just Frank. It was every case, every broken date and promise. It had added up to a complete loss of faith that Ned was still trying to deny.

He loved her. She loved him. That wasn't enough. Without trust, their relationship could never really be what it should be, and if she was honest about it, it hadn't been in years. Ned was...

Ned was someone she picked up and discarded. She used him when it suited her, but the relationship was always on her terms, when she was available. She had taken advantage of his kindness and love and failed to show half that much in return. He deserved better.

Especially now.

If Zollner had gone after Ned, it was because of her connection to Frank. She was at fault for it, and she knew she'd blame herself just as much as Frank did.

“If this is all about you,” Ned began, looking at Frank, “why go after me? Wouldn't your brother be a better target?”

“Yes, absolutely, but at this point, I'm not sure it is about me,” Frank answered without looking back at him. Nancy knew he was collecting himself, but he was only going to upset Ned further. “Zollner has been playing games with me, but if I was his only objective, there are thousands of other ways he could get to me. The elaborate traps and prolonged games are juvenile and inept, and he mocked them when he had me. He said... He wanted to start right away, and it... It wasn't long after he stopped the car that he hurt me. There is more going on than revenge. He didn't need Callie for that or you. It's just that part I can't see because he's clouding the issue and taunting me and doing it all from somewhere that he shouldn't be able to reach me.”

Nancy looked at Joe. His expression was sheepish. He hadn't told Frank their other theory, probably thinking Frank too close to the edge to hear it. Joe could be right, but leaving Frank in the dark wasn't an option, either. She would have to tell him. “Zollner may have a partner.”

Frank considered her words. “Nothing I know of Zollner suggested a willingness to share, but it makes sense.”

“You took that so much better than expected,” Joe said, staring at his brother like he couldn't believe the reaction he was seeing.

Frank shrugged. “On the one hand, it's a relief to think he's not masterminding this behind bars. On the other... I have no idea who that partner could be and that is terrifying. I don't know what to feel right now.”

“But you still think Zollner or someone working for him got to me?” Ned asked, watching Frank carefully.

“I think,” Frank said with deliberate slowness, this time facing Ned as he spoke, “that it's a possibility we can't rule out and don't want to take any chances with. I still wish I'd taken steps sooner with Callie, but the first time she cut me, I genuinely thought it was an accident. And I definitely didn't believe she had anything to do with that dog. I was in denial right up until she tried to kill me. And she didn't remember doing any of it—still doesn't—so she couldn't ask for help. We can give you something we couldn't—didn't—do for her.”

Ned nodded with reluctance. No one would want to agree with that, but Frank was right. “I understand, but I don't see how it is even possible.”

“Yeah, but can you realistically risk it?” Joe asked. “You know you don't want to hurt Nancy or anyone else.”

“No, I'll go,” Ned said, and Nancy looked at him with gratitude, thanking him silently for being just who he was and accepting what had to happen.

* * *

Joe watched as Nancy led Ned away from them, apparently intending some kind of private goodbye. It wasn't that good of an idea, but then Joe couldn't blame her for wanting to talk to Ned in private. She had a lot to say—and most of it he knew Frank hadn't gotten a chance to say to Callie. He was sorry he'd gotten her mixed up in it. Sorry he hadn't seen the changes in her for what they were. Sorry he hadn't thought Zollner was still a threat. Sorry he hadn't found her in time. Sorry about the whole world because it was all his fault.

“Should someone go with him? You know... get him on the plane and make sure he makes it to the psychiatrist we trust?” 

“You know if someone does that, it would have to be you,” Frank said, his eyes off in the other direction, as were his thoughts, most likely. Joe tried not to swear. His brother wasn't lying. Joe would be the only option. Frank and Nancy were likely triggers for Ned. They couldn't go, even if Frank would probably volunteer because he was himself a risk.

“No. I can't leave you. You know that. The only reason you were willing to come was because I promised I wouldn't let things go to far. You need me.”

“I know.”

Joe balled his fists. “Would you _stop_ saying that? Don't do this. Don't act calm. I know you're not. I know you acting calm is you shutting yourself down and away from this again. Don't. I can't let you do that. You are better than that. Callie got hurt in one of the worst ways possible, and it seems like that's not the end of it, but you are not going to let Zollner win.”

“I was thinking of taking this to the source,” Frank said. “I asked to see Zollner.”

“Are you insane?”

“Yes.”

Joe rubbed his forehead. “Don't do that. I don't—Frank, it's not funny. I know what I did earlier was almost out of line, but you saying that is just as bad. You're not crazy. You're just... under a lot of pressure and stress, but you _are_ coping with it.”

“Going to Zollner could end it. It could tell us if he has a partner or not.”

“He's going to lie. You know that. I know that. It's better for screwing with your head if you think he's doing it while he's in isolation. That way it all seems like crazy paranoia or worse—hallucinations. Impossible things. That's what he wants you to believe.”

Frank shook his head. “None of this makes sense, Joe. Why me? Why am I that important? Yes, we solved cases as kids, but we're not prodigies. We don't have special powers. We don't have special clearances in most cases. Yes, we worked with government agencies, but so have dozens of other people. Hundreds. I was not the first person to investigate Zollner. He had lackeys kill some of them off or take the fall, but he never taunted them and pulled elaborate schemes—he claimed to hate them and when he had me, he wasn't wasting time. Yet he lets himself get caught, he goes to prison, and then he goes after _Callie?_ She was my girlfriend, yes, but I think even she knew she would never be as close to me as you are. Why her? Why not you? And now instead of hurting Nancy directly, he chooses Ned? Something isn't right here, and I need that piece that will make it all—”

“Make sense? Frank, the guy is a _psycho._ He's obsessed with you—and it doesn't even _matter_ why. He might have claimed to hate the game, but he clearly loves it because look at what he's doing to you. He didn't pick me because he knew that would shut you down, would end the game. You can work past Callie. Nancy can probably work past Ned, but if he'd picked someone else, it would be different. This is just his way of prolonging things.”

Frank closed his eyes. “Then going directly to him changes it. I don't have to play this game on his terms. I can end it.”

Something about the way Frank said that scared Joe, and he had a sick feeling he knew how Frank would end it if he went to see Zollner. That couldn't happen. Joe knew it might seem like the solution to all of this, but it would cost him his brother, and that was not a price he was willing to pay.

“We have the names,” Joe reminded him. “We can find the whitewashes—and this killer after Nancy—and trace it back to Zollner's partner. That's how to turn the tables on him. Trust me. We can do this.”

Frank sighed. “And if the names have nothing to do with Zollner?”

“Then we solve a murder, prevent more, and still beat him because he hasn't destroyed you,” Joe answered. “Come on. At least try it my way first.”

“It would be so much simpler—”

“Please.”

Frank hesitated, and Joe waited. In the end, Frank lost the battle with himself and nodded. “Okay. Fine. We'll try it.”

* * *

Frank moved away from his brother, needing some distance from Joe and what he'd just agreed to do. No, he wasn't thrilled with his solution to the Zollner problem—it still sickened him, but he was no longer a naïve kid who thought he could solve every case with a confession and send the offender to jail without any loss of life. Even when they started working for the Network and dealing with more murders, it seemed to happen. They could talk or fight their way out of any situation, and they lived. There was always a way out.

Trouble was, kids grew up. Bad guys had less and less qualms about hurting “kids” and without that protection, as an adult with full responsibility for his actions, Frank had to confront the possibility that there would be times when killing someone was the only way to end the situation. Soldiers did it. Cops did it. Agents did it. Even private detectives did.

_“Tell me, Franklin... Would you kill me, if you could?”_

_Frank shuddered involuntarily as Zollner's finger traced along one of Frank's scars. He didn't want to be touched, not by anyone, but Zollner was worse. Frank swore he was thinking about every way he could hurt Frank as he did it, and the look in his eyes when he did was like something from a horror film, unnatural and so sickeningly pleased with himself._

_“That is a dumb question,” Frank said, watching as Zollner's hand moved away. Was he going for the knife now? Or would it be something else?_

_“So you think you would. Yet I know, for all your record as a detective, for all the agencies you could be allied with now, for the impressive gift you'd be to a military command, you have yet to take a life. I don't know that you could.”_

_Frank shrugged. “They say under the right circumstances, anyone is capable of murder.”_

_“And what are the right circumstances for you, Franklin?” Zollner asked. “Have I found them yet... or will I have to create them?”_

The sound of something breaking drew Frank back out of his memories, and he whirled around to find the source of the noise. He'd seen a large planter earlier, back before he'd been confronted by Nickerson and ended up on the other side of the building, but those things looked like they were made of solid cement.

He didn't think that could have been the sound he'd heard, but he also didn't see anything around her that could have made a shattering sound. Of course, it was possible that it was in his head—though why he'd picture that when he knew what followed in his conversation with Zollner, he couldn't say.

It could be proof that his mind was finally gone, though.

He shook the thought off. He was coping rather well with the idea of a possible partner for Zollner, much better than he would have believed—just like Joe hadn't—but then again, he wasn't entirely sure he had accepted it.

Zollner had never given Frank any hints that he was working with others. Underlings, yes, Frank knew he had them, but an equal? Someone trusted enough to orchestrate this while Zollner was in prison?

No.

Unless the person behind all of this was never Zollner, but if he wasn't... Then why had Zollner been allowed to torture Frank? Why did all the messages sounded like Zollner talking to him? Why would anyone else sit back and let Zollner do that if Frank was the root cause of this whole damn mess?

The only way Frank saw a partnership working was if Zollner had a twin. An identical twin. A true equal. And that, according to everyone, was impossible. Zollner was an only child.

He looked around again. Something had broken. He'd heard it.

There. That window on the second floor. Some considerable force had managed to break through the double panes. He turned, doing a quick assessment. He'd been pretty disoriented even before his confrontation with Ned, but if he judged the placement of that window right—if he was standing where he thought he was...

That was Nancy's room.


	14. Everything Breaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank pursues the angle of the broken window. Ned and Nancy talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is overdue, but work has been brutal (they actually sent me home early today because I was looking so bad.) Hopefully I can manage more updates now that company is gone, though.
> 
> I think I need to work at actual progression of the mystery and action. I hate action. So hard to write. So much easier just to screw with Frank's head, poor guy.

* * *

“You okay?”

Frank didn't answer in words, his eyes shifting to the brick building in front of him. Joe hoped this wasn't a bad sign. He knew Frank had to deal with things on his own—to a point; the guy was entirely too willing to brood and guilt trip himself to death—but right now would be a very bad time for Frank to go and fugue out on them. They still didn't know if Ned would be triggered before they could get him on a plane, and even then—they didn't have enough people. Someone needed to keep an eye on Nickerson, but Joe did not want to leave his brother.

“Whoa. That's quite the crack. Wonder how that happened,” Joe said, seeing the broken window.

“Think Nancy had a visitor who wasn't very happy to find her _not_ in her room,” Frank said, and Joe's eyes widened. Yeah, they'd all wandered around a bit, but Frank usually had a good sense of direction, and Joe agreed—that _did_ look like the window that belonged to Nancy's hospital room.

“Well, I guess it's a good thing we got her out of there,” Joe began, frowning. “Wait. What about the police watching her room? Do you think...?”

“They're either unconscious or dead, though I'd figure on unconscious. Killing cops is different from killing civilians,” Frank said. “It can mean federal involvement and a more aggressive investigation. These people might not care about that—”

“Except Nancy said the guy who came after her was cleaning up. Haggard's death was supposed to be part of covering up their operations, but the guy was sloppy, so _he_ got cleaned up. They wouldn't want to add more murders—especially not of cops. Having Nancy succumb to her injuries would have been ideal for them.”

“Only she didn't.”

“And she won't,” Joe agreed. He looked back behind him. “Uh... We seem to have misplaced her and Ned, though.”

“You find them,” Frank told him. “I'll go see if that really is Nancy's room and if anyone got hurt.”

“You?”

Frank glared at him. “Honestly, Joe, if you think I'm not capable of that, why the hell did you force me out of the house? If the guy who was after Nancy _did_ break that window, then he would have left by now. Why risk being seen?”

“Why risk breaking the window?”

“I didn't say that I had a perfect theory. I just like it a whole lot better than having it be Zollner or one of his agents breaking that pane to get my attention,” Frank snapped, walking away from Joe and around to the other side of the hospital.

Joe let out a curse, shaking his head as he did. Damn it, he didn't want to fight with Frank right now—and he _definitely_ didn't want to think about someone baiting Frank like that. If it _had_ been one of them, if there was another message, that could destroy Frank. He was too close to the edge as it was.

He could follow after Frank, but that would probably make things worse between him and his brother. Let Frank have some space. He could do a few things on his own, a bit of investigating. That would help, wouldn't it? Frank would get his feet back under him and be able to know that he _could_ handle all of this. It would help heal him.

That was worth the risk. Joe just wished it didn't worry him so much.

* * *

“Do you believe it? Really believe it?”

Nancy drew in a breath, stalling for time as she searched for the right words. She let out the breath and tried to find a way to say what she needed to say with the least amount of damage. She had already caused enough pain, and she knew there was a lot here that she couldn't fix, not now, maybe not ever. She'd let herself be blind to it before, and a part of her said she had to see all of it through—break off from the investigation and be there for Ned every step of the way through therapy and recovery and anything else he might need.

Her guilt demanded that.

Everything else in her rebelled against the idea. This was larger than Ned or her mistakes. Zollner or someone working for him seemed to be an expert in brainwashing and mind control. What he'd done to Callie was proof enough of that. If someone like Zollner had access to whitewashed covert identities, as Frank had theorized, then who knew what those people were capable of or programmed to do? They might not even know. That might be the reason behind leather jacket's cleaning operation.

If she ignored that and went with Ned, she'd be the girlfriend she should be, the girlfriend he deserved. She wouldn't be herself, but she'd be the person he needed.

And she had the sinking feeling, standing here now, that she never had been and never would be that person, even as much as she loved him.

“I don't believe you would ever want to hurt me,” Nancy began, watching Ned's reaction carefully. “I don't know if Zollner could have gotten to you on your trip—or maybe he did something worse, something sneakier and at hours when you thought you were sleeping. There are all sorts of horrible scenarios that come to mind.... I don't want any of them to be true. I swear I don't.”

Ned put a hand on her cheek. “Nancy...”

“You shouldn't have to go through this,” Nancy told him. “I want it to be a false alarm, I do. And I want Frank to be wrong about all the rest of this, but I don't think I could live with myself if he isn't. I'm so sorry. I was afraid of this. Ever since I heard about Callie, I was afraid it might happen to you, but I... I didn't stop. I kept up with cases and finding trouble and never once... I didn't...”

“Didn't what?”

“Didn't protect you.” Nancy heard him snort, but she shook her head. “It's not like I haven't been aware of the risk to me or the people I care about. As much as it scares me, it's never stopped me—”

“And none of us would want it to.”

“Do you really feel that way?” Nancy demanded. “I don't see how you can. Be angry, Ned. Hate me. You should. I got you into this mess. This is all because of me—because I wouldn't stop being Frank's friend or solving mysteries.”

“Solving mysteries is who you are.”

“And half the time, you hate that.”

Ned grimaced. “Are you _trying_ to fight with me now?”

“No.” Nancy bit back a curse, running her fingers through her hair. She didn't want to fight with Ned. If she was angry, it was with herself. She couldn't believe she'd let any of this happen, and she was also ashamed of the way she'd behaved for so long. “I don't... I just don't think you should stand there and be so forgiving. You didn't want to forgive me for Gary, so why do it for this?”

“It's not like that—”

“No one deserves to shove aside everything they want and feel to be with someone. If that is what you have to do to be with me, then you shouldn't. Because you do deserve better.”

“Is this because of—”

“No,” Nancy cut that thought off before he could finish it. No, this was not about Frank. “If we are ever going to have the sort of relationship we should have, then we have to face what's really wrong with what we have and fix it. I can see what I've done. If you won't even let me acknowledge it, then how can I change it?”

“Is now really the time to be worrying about what you think you've done wrong?”

She sighed. “Not really, but the point of our trip was to sort out what was wrong with us. This threat... It won't make that go away. Yes, we have to find out if you have any programming or triggers, and you will probably need a lot of time to undo them if you do... and then we'll have to have this talk again.”

“I don't want to lose you,” Ned whispered, hand returning to her cheek.

“You haven't,” Nancy said, except she couldn't shake the voice inside her that said he'd never had her in the first place.

* * *

Joe coughed, not sure how else to draw attention to himself without making things any more awkward than it already was. He didn't want to interrupt Ned and Nancy when they were talking like that, especially not when they had to send Ned away. It looked like they were working things out, and he was sure he was going to make it all weird again because he would remind them both of what was going on and all sorts of other issues that came with the name Hardy.

They turned to look at him, and Joe couldn't even force a smile. “Hey. We may have another problem.”

“Great,” Ned muttered, pulling away from Nancy. “As if we need _more.”_

Nancy grimaced. She reached out to comfort Ned and stopped herself, facing Joe instead. “What is it? I thought we—where's Frank?”

“It looks like the window in your hospital room was broken. Frank thought it could have been the man who tried to kill you. He went to see if the police that had been watching your room were okay.”

“You let him do that alone?” Nancy asked, surprised.

Joe shrugged. “Thing is... I can't be there to do everything for him, and if I don't let him have some space, I really will lose him. Or so I keep trying to tell myself. I think I'll join him now, and after that, we'd better make some travel arrangements.”

“The police don't want me to leave,” Nancy said. “And I'm not sure—”

“Since when do you do what the police want?” Ned teased, and Nancy almost smiled, but her heart wasn't in it. Joe could tell.

Maybe that conversation hadn't gone as well as he'd thought. Joe pointed to the hospital. “Sorry. Mystery calling. And brother. And... well... what is wrong with us that we didn't all go running when Frank said the killer had been in your room?”

Nancy glanced toward Ned. “Maybe some things are more important.”

Joe grimaced. “Or maybe none of us is acting like we should.”

* * *

Frank saw the nurse at the front desk watching him as he crossed the lobby, and he wondered just how often fights broke out here in this hospital. Most emergency rooms were full of things like that, but this town might be different. Or she might be new.

He tried to ignore the part of him that was suspicious of her behavior—he was too paranoid these days—and went to the elevator. He considered running up the stairs, but he didn't know that it would make any difference, waiting for the elevator. He would probably take just as long on the stairs—he was out of shape and still hadn't even scheduled the physical therapy they'd wanted him to do after he got out of the hospital.

Joe would laugh at that, Frank thought as the elevator doors opened and he stepped inside it, being out of shape, since it wasn't like he'd gotten _fat_ while he sat in his room barely eating, but that took its toll on the body, too. The door closed, and Frank pushed the button for the second floor, waiting as the elevator started to rise.

He tapped his fingers on the panel behind him. Being alone was strange. He'd retreated into his room, but since his family was around and hovering—Joe most of all—Frank had never been alone for long, and not outside the house.

He should feel free. He didn't.

He left the elevator as soon as it stopped, heading down the hall to where Nancy's room was. The hallway was cluttered by a couple of nurse's carts and a few patients, but he saw no sign of any officers. He knew he'd seen them outside Nancy's door. They'd given him a strange look when he left abruptly, staring holes in him as he checked the card and ran for the nearest exit in a blur he didn't remember much of, other than them.

So... where were they now? He didn't think that policemen would just abandon their post, even if Nancy had left the room. A frantic search should be happening—and how had Joe gotten her past them, anyway? Had they been gone before Nancy even left?

He pushed open her door, eyes drawn to the windows first. His stomach twisted at the confirmation of his theory—yes, it was Nancy's window that had been broken. Whoever had done it hadn't stopped there, either. 

Strewn across the bed and floor were the flowers that had supposedly come from Bess. He thought the vase might have been used on the window, leaving the sunflowers and daisies all over the place. He saw more broken class on the floor, though... he didn't think the vase would have been strong enough to shatter the window. The vandal must have used something else after breaking the vase.

And why was it no one else seemed to care about that?

His phone rang, and he cursed, pulling it out as he did. He figured it was Joe, but then it would have had his ringtone, not the generic one. It didn't matter. He didn't want to talk to anyone just yet. He tried to hit the button to end the call without taking it, but his finger went too close to the accept, and he heard the call connect.

“Tell me, Franklin. Did your friend like her flowers?”


	15. Treacherous Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phone calls, theories, and triggers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had trouble with this one. First I wrote Frank's scene, and then I thought I'd move it and put it as a flashback. Then I wanted to write why/how Frank got tangled up in Zollner's case, but I think that belongs when there's actual investigating going on, and so I said, "okay, let's really make people hate me (they do already) now."
> 
> So... here it is. A reason to give up on the fic if you haven't already.

* * *

“Who are you?”

“You know who I am,” the voice on the other end said. Smug, annoying, it sounded exactly like Frank remembered, the same as the one he couldn't forget that tormented his dreams and his waking hours. This was the voice of his personal bogeyman, but it couldn't be.

Even if Zollner wasn't in prison, they wouldn't let him have a phone. None of this was real. Frank could even debate with himself over how long it had been since anything was real—could he still be in Zollner's hands, back in a brainwashing so deep he didn't know if _any_ of this was real. He might have lost his mind a long time ago.

Only he couldn't afford to believe that. “Zollner is in isolation. You are not him.”

“You say that because it is what you want to believe, but you know that isn't true. You have suspected this for a long time.”

Suspected that Zollner was free? Yes. Frank had thought about it every day since his own escape from Zollner's hands. He asked, he checked, and he knew Joe checked, but he felt no better knowing that Zollner was still in there, so he did not think it mattered.

“So, what, you let someone take your face and place in prison?” Frank snorted, though he admittedly didn't discount the possibility and was not sure how he sounded remotely calm at the moment.

“Is that so difficult to believe?”

It wasn't. That was the trouble. It was far too easy to believe. He didn't see how Zollner could manipulate so much from the inside, and the partner idea didn't explain enough of what he had been experiencing from Zollner since his arrest. Callie's kidnapping, the programming she'd been through, all of that seemed like something Zollner would do himself, only Frank knew the man had been in prison the entire time.

“We both know you are not Zollner.” Frank shook his head. “Why are you playing this game?”

“What makes you believe any of this is a game? Surely the stakes are too high for that. Think of your precious Callie. And now your friend—”

“You didn't get to Nancy.”

“Didn't I?”

Frank leaned against the wall. “Are you claiming Haggard was one of yours? These special projects of yours? A creation of your making?”

“Why shouldn't he be? I can make anyone what I want them to be, anything I need them to be. Why wouldn't that be of value to any government?”

It would be, and Frank knew it. That was why he'd connected the names to Zollner in the first place, what made him think that they could be a part of a larger conspiracy. True, they could have been a part of one that did not involve Zollner at all, but stories about sleeper agents were all too common—and what better sleeper agent than one that didn't even know he was an agent?

“You see it, don't you? The potential, the scale... Do you really think that something like this would just... end when I went to prison? Don't you remember—I told you it wasn't a victory.”

“You're lying.”

“That was a rather childish response. I thought better of you, Franklin.”

_And I know that even if you're not Zollner, this whole conversation is just meant to screw with me. None of this matters. I can't trust anything you say, and I know it. I can't prove or disprove it, and it will drive me crazy._

_I am done letting you win._

Frank didn't say any of that. “You're not Zollner.”

He said with more confidence than he felt, emphasizing it by ending the call. His phone started ringing again, but he ignored it. He wasn't talking to that person again.

* * *

“Frank?”

Joe wasn't sure where Frank had been when he was staring at Nancy's room, and he also wasn't sure he wanted to know. Frank's mind was a dark place anymore, and Joe didn't know that anyone could change that. Frank seemed unable to do it, and Zollner was not letting it happen.

At least Frank was looking at him this time, though it wasn't much of a relief when he spoke. Something was off about his voice. “Joe.”

“I see you found the room.” Joe tried to keep it light, but he didn't think it worked. Most of the time these days, that was almost as much of a lost cause as his brother. Joe hated himself for thinking that—he wasn't like that—but he was starting to feel like he might never get Frank back from this. Zollner had gotten in too deep, and if Frank was willing to go _kill_ the guy while he was in custody, then things had already gone too far. “The window was Nancy's.”

Frank nodded, still lost in thought or something else. “Ned and Nancy okay?”

“Yes, they should be here any second—they weren't that far behind me but Ned didn't want Nancy taking the stairs, but I'd already waited too long and it just seemed weird to me that I wasn't rushing off to see what happened up here,” Joe said. He shook his head. “I swear, we're all starting to think we're under the influence of this mind control.”

“Zollner would want you to believe that. He'd want us all to believe it,” Frank agreed, though his tone was still as distant as his eyes were.

“Well, Ned and Nancy are fine, but _you_ clearly aren't,” Joe said. He folded his arms over his chest and studied his brother. “What happened? Is it just... This? The room? The flowers? I mean, Zollner was using them to get to you before—”

“Nancy's guards are gone,” Frank said. “And whoever broke the window broke the vase first, but I don't see how _no one_ heard that.”

Joe grimaced. That was odd, and he couldn't explain it any more than Frank could, but that still wasn't the reason Frank was only half in the room with him. “Okay, so... I'm not sure how anyone could fail to notice that, but stranger things have happened—oh, I know. A distraction. If someone had an emergency in another room, then they'd have that code going and machines and everyone would hve rushed into there. They wouldn't have heard anything while they were working.”

“Explains the nurses but not the other patients,” Frank said. “Though... that is better than what I came up with, so we'll go with that. It makes sense that Nancy's attacker would want a distraction, since we assume he went in there to kill her.”

“But why the flowers and the vase and the window?” Joe asked, crossing over to get a better look at the flowers. Were they arranged in any sort of pattern? A message? Or maybe the glass had more clues as to what was going on here.

“Zollner wanted me to think it was him.”

“Not everything is about him,” Joe muttered, though it made sense. Since Zollner's message was on the card with the flowers, anyone working for him would want Frank to think the killer was one of his men after Nancy. Though—why would they need anyone else if they had already programmed Ned? “Not even this. He can't be everywhere—that's just not possible.”

“What's not possible?” Nancy asked as she came into the room. She stopped in the doorway, frowning. “I... I know you didn't like the flowers, Frank, but that is a little extreme, don't you think?”

Frank looked over at her sharply. “You think _I_ did that? Why would I dump your flowers? I know they're evidence, though with Zollner, there won't be any trace on them. Just the prints and DNA of a hapless delivery person who didn't know they were being used in a scam. I may be slightly off-center these days, but I haven't forgotten what evidence is or how to preserve a crime scene.”

Nancy winced. “I was teasing.”

“Yeah, well, Frank doesn't have much of a sense of humor these days. Hinky was our best joke in months,” Joe told her, shaking his head. “We were just discussing the idea of Zollner's agent making sure to do this with the flowers as a message. Frank thinks Zollner wants him thinking he's behind all of this.”

“Well, it does make the suspect list shorter in some ways, but I don't know that we can afford to assume that it was Zollner,” Nancy said. She looked like she needed to sit, pain wrinkling up her forehead and her hand going to the wall for support. Ned glared at it, and Joe had the absurd thought that he was jealous of the wall.

Frank nodded. “Zollner may want me believing it whether or not it's true. He enjoys keeping me off balance, and thinking about his ability to create this situation from prison or even just have this kind of reach is enough to make anyone paranoid.”

“Still, it's a bit much to think this is all about you, isn't it?” Ned asked. “All these people dying and being tortured—just for you... Sounds like you have a bit of an ego problem.”

“Hey,” Joe began, since ego wasn't really Frank's problem. About a thousand other things were, but not ego.

“It's fine, Joe,” Frank said, still sounding not himself. “I am not actually saying it is about me. Zollner claimed he had the support of governments to do what he did—that Haggard and the others were his creations, a better form of sleeper agents.”

“Damn,” Joe said, thinking of worse words that summed up their situation as well.

“So where do you fit into this, then?” Ned asked, frowning. “Why did he focus on you so much he went after Nancy—or me, if he really did?”

Frank looked at him. He frowned, looking like he was searching for the answer, but it didn't come. He shook his head. “I don't know that I am as important as it seems, not if this case has the reach it does. It doesn't matter.”

“Hey, when I am the one suspected of—”

“Nancy, when was the last time you told Ned you loved him?”

She blinked, staring at Frank after that question, and she wasn't the only one. Joe couldn't believe his brother had just asked that. Who would? Not even someone madly in love with Nancy would dare ask, and Frank insisted there was nothing there. So... what was this?

“I think that's the last thing that you need to know,” Ned said, angry, and Joe didn't actually blame him for that.

Frank winced. “It... I think it may be a simple way of provoking a trigger. It... I... When I got Callie back, I didn't... _couldn't_ say I loved her. Not that I blamed her or thought she didn't deserve love after what happened to her, but I was so guilty... All I could tell her was that I was sorry and that I was going to fix it somehow, that it would be okay. I couldn't say I loved her because... she was hurt because of me and I kept thinking... if I'd loved her enough, I would have found a way to spare her it. It was... I just... It was when I said it back to her that she... she tried to kill me.”

“Oh, hell,” Joe muttered, knowing why Frank had left that part of the story out before. It was a kick to the gut to hear, bringing back memories of Iola as well as other unpleasant thoughts.

“I... I actually don't know when the last time I said it was,” Nancy admitted, flushed with shame. “It seems like something I'd say a lot, but maybe I just assumed I was and didn't... Ned, I am so sorry—I know that it doesn't—”

“Say it,” Ned cut in. “Just say it.”

* * *

Nancy swallowed, wanting someone or something to swallow her up, spare her this moment, because she didn't want to do it. Not that she hadn't spent all this time thinking about how she did love Ned and how she needed to work on what was wrong between them so that it could be right, just once, at least, but she didn't want to say it on command—and she didn't want it to be a trigger.

“No. I can't. Don't poison those words with... this.”

“Nancy,” Joe said, his voice gentle as he exchanged a look with Frank that had the older Hardy turning away. “If we're right, they're already poisoned. Not by you. You taking that step to find out isn't ruining things, it's... Well, Frank over there is convinced that if he had triggered Callie's response earlier, he could have spared her a lot of pain and guilt. So he's also blaming himself for things he didn't say. If you can spare both of you that, it's got to be a good thing. And since Ned already agreed to go, that's the sort of goodbye he deserves, right?”

Nancy nodded. Ned did deserve to hear the words. She looked at him. “I don't want to hurt you. Not any more than I already have.”

Ned sighed. “You can't take the blame for everything that's wrong. That's definitely not doing your friend over there any favors. And he's got a point, much as I hate agreeing with him. The sooner we know, the less damage this does. I don't want to hurt you or anyone else. Here... We can almost control it, and we'll know for sure instead of sending me off for no good reason.”

“It is a good reason,” she whispered. He cupped her cheek, and she tried to smile back at him. “I love you.”

Ned smiled. The room seemed to lose some tension, and she knew she'd let out a breath she didn't remember holding.

And then Ned's fingers moved from her cheek to her throat.


	16. Once More in the Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone copes with what just happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... I was threatened with violence should the story not go a particular way, which I didn't say I would do to avoid the violence. I just wrote it the way I intended to go anyway.
> 
> Though Joe did put in a curveball at the end that I didn't see coming. Blame him.

* * *

Joe almost thought they'd been wrong about the whole thing. Frank was paranoid, and he made everyone around him paranoid, not that it was hard when Nancy was being targeted by a killer and her hospital room was vandalized. Ned's behavior could almost have been just his old resentment of Frank coming into play. That was what they'd all wanted it to be, wasn't it?

So Joe said trigger it. Frank could have been wrong about the words being a trigger even if Ned was programmed, but the trouble was that Frank and Nancy were a lot alike. He'd been right about Nancy's lack of the words, and though that didn't necessarily _mean_ that was a trigger, the words would seem perfect for someone like Zollner. How more twisted could it get than having the person you loved kill you as soon as you told them how you felt?

Not much.

Still, they seemed to be out of the woods. Nancy said the words, and Ned didn't move. Didn't even react. They had all held their breath for nothing. Relieved, Joe was ready to congratulate them on getting past that point when Ned's hands went around Nancy's neck.

She reached up to yank at them, and Joe swore it had to be Ned joking around with them—it wasn't funny, but it had to have been, should have been, must have been a joke because Ned wouldn't actually do that, wouldn't hurt Nancy, but he _was._

Joe threw himself forward, tackling Ned around the waist and knocking him to the ground. Ned tried to yank Nancy with him, but she managed to break his hold when Joe hit him. She freed herself, backing against the wall and rubbing at her neck, her eyes bright with unshed tears.

“No...”

Joe grimaced, trying to hold Ned still. The guy hadn't switched off just because Nancy got free. He was going to get up again. “Uh, Frank? A little help here?”

Frank shook himself out of wherever he'd been—damn, now was so not the time for Frank to zone out on them—and came over to Joe's side. He got down, putting a knee down on Ned's back to hold him in place while he pulled a zip tie from his pocket and tightened it around Ned's wrists.

Joe stared at him. “Do I even want to know why you had them?”

“You might have needed to restrain me.”

“Damn it, Frank,” Joe said, shaking his head. Ned snarled and bucked up, knocking Joe and Frank off of him. He yanked his hands apart, trying to break the tie and moving back toward Nancy.

She rose, rubbing her neck. “What stops it? Do I say it again?”

“You could try,” Frank said, moving to pin down Ned's legs again. “Though I'm not sure it will help. Callie didn't stop until I'd almost killed her and she couldn't try anymore. But... then I didn't try and say the words again, either. I was a little too busy fighting her and trying not to bleed out.”

Nancy nodded, crossing the room to Ned's side. She knelt down next to him. “Ned, listen to me. It's Nancy. You have to stop this. This isn't you. I know it isn't.”

Frank gagged, and Joe shook him. “Not now. You have to stay here. I don't care how close to home it hits—I'm sure you said the same things to Callie—”

“He was lying, wasn't he?” Ned said, elbowing Joe. Joe turned back to get a better grip on him and Ned spat in his face.

“Ned,” Nancy tried again, “don't do this. I love you, and I know this isn't you. Please.”

“You don't love me,” Ned said, still fighting. “You just love yourself. You're a selfish, arrogant—”

The bedpan connected with Ned's head, and Frank winced, dropping it as soon as it did. He backed away, leaning against the wall and fighting to control his own breathing. He lowered his head onto his knees. “I don't... I'm sorry. I should have... found another way. I just... Callie wouldn't stop... kept coming and coming... Didn't want you to... to have to hurt him like I did her.”

“Frank,” Nancy said, shaking her head even as tears made tracks down her cheeks, “you did the right thing. Thank you.”

“Don't thank me,” Frank said, jumping to his feet. “This is my fault. If I hadn't gotten mixed up with Zollner...”

He ran from the room, and Joe sighed. He looked at Ned and then at Nancy. “I think you'd better go after Frank. If Ned wakes up and is himself again, then it'd be fine if you were here. If he doesn't... He'll try and kill you again, and you don't need that three times in one day.”

Nancy looked at Ned, torn. “I don't...”

“Please,” Joe said. “I would go, but I don't want to risk Ned hurting anyone else, including himself. From what Frank said of when Callie was like this, it was different. She wasn't as angry as Ned is. They really worked on that angle, and I don't know what will happen when he wakes up, but I also know Frank shouldn't be alone. You weren't able to be there before, and it's killing me to ask you instead of going myself, but... please, Nancy. Check on Frank.”

She nodded. “Take care of Ned for me.”

* * *

Nancy started to say at least a half-dozen things to Frank and rejected them all before she sat down next to him. She didn't know that there was anything acceptable _to_ say, and even the ones that were, she knew he wouldn't accept—she blamed herself for Ned's involvement, so why wouldn't Frank blame himself for all of it? Telling him that sitting here feeling guilty was letting Zollner win? Frank knew that, and it also wouldn't help. It could anger him, but it could backfire just as easily, and if it came to pulling something that would anger Frank out of a funk, she preferred to leave that to Joe. The two of them had a bond that could withstand that sort of thing, one she didn't think she and Frank shared, even with all they had in common.

So she opted for something else, and it worked, despite everything. “I missed you.”

Frank's head jerked up, and he looked at her with a frown. “What?”

She shrugged. “It's not like it's a crime or anything. We haven't seen each other in almost two years, haven't worked together and barely talk. I wasn't able to be there when you were in the hospital. And I wasn't there for you for any of this.”

“You have your own life. I've always known that.” Frank shook his head, looking down at his hands. “And don't think that because you were there, things would have been different. I wasn't even letting Joe in, so it's not like I would have told you everything or that you would have been able to work some miraculous cure.”

She snorted. “I don't really seem that full of myself, do I? I know I insist on doing things my own way, and I _can_ take care of myself, but I don't go around insisting I'm some kind of... I don't even know what you'd call that? Miracle worker? Goddess?”

“I don't know. And no, I don't think you do see yourself that way. I think we all have a weakness—we tend to see ourselves as... a little invulnerable, always able to solve the case without anyone really getting hurt along the way. Which Joe and I should have known better, but I think...” Frank lowered his head. “Even though I knew better, I just didn't... I didn't think that all of this... because I looked into Zollner...”

She reached for his hand, taking it in hers. “I'd like for you to tell me about it. The initial investigation, at least. How did Zollner come to your attention?”

“Nancy—”

“Not now, though. Not here. The hospital obviously isn't safe, and we have to do something about Ned. If you think we can trust Callie's doctor, then we should take him there. I don't know what else to do,” Nancy admitted. “I didn't think... I didn't understand what it was like until I saw Ned like that... it wasn't him. I know it wasn't, but it was... and it hurts so much seeing him like that...”

Frank nodded. “It does. Sometimes that part seems harder than when I first found Callie again. Seeing her after...”

Nancy could only nod. She still didn't want to believe that Ned had attacked her, and seeing the guys struggle to bring him down was almost worse. “I keep having these horrible thoughts... What if Ned isn't the only one? Bess, George...”

“Believe me, I've had them. I waited for weeks to see if Joe...”

Nancy flinched. That would have been the worst possible thing for Frank. He and Joe were too close, and she knew that most of the world knew it. They even operated under that idea, using several plans to separate the brothers. The idea was that Joe couldn't reason or investigate without Frank—or that if they took out Joe, Frank wouldn't be able to think, he'd be too emotionally unstable and guilt-ridden. They were right, to a point, but it had never been enough to break them. This, though, what Zollner did, that could be. Just looking at how much what happened to Callie affected him...

Nancy prayed Zollner never got a chance to get to Joe.

Only he'd already gotten Ned, and what did she do?

* * *

Frank forced himself to his feet. He didn't feel much like he could go forward, but Nancy was right—sitting here wasn't an option. They didn't have enough people right now to do all that needed to be done—someone had to get Ned help, and there was still a killer out there who might be working for Zollner. They had to find him and stop him, had to look into the other names before they ended up dead as well, and Frank didn't know how they would. He wasn't capable of much right now, and Nancy wasn't much better, not after Ned attacked her.

And it was a lot to ask of Joe.

“I think we need help,” Frank said. “I'm not sure if we can rely only on our friends or if we need to call in what favors we have—I also don't know—if Zollner has the reach he claims to have, if he really can do this from prison and has the backing of governments behind him, then we don't even know who we can trust.”

Nancy held out her hand, and Frank took it, helping her stand. She dusted herself off with a grimace. “I don't know, either. When I think about what happened to Ned and what Zollner claimed, I go back to Gary—what if he was another one of Zollner's projects? Or is that taking this too far?”

Frank sighed. “What this keeps teaching me is just when I think it can't possibly go farther, it does. It doesn't make sense—except when I consider the angle of international organizations interested in creating these kinds of sleeper agents... I'm not even sure Zollner is the head—he might be more of the heir, someone created himself by the original factions if it goes far back enough, but I don't know. There are so many variables, and I haven't begun to puzzle them out because... I haven't been strong enough to face them.”

“Not on your own, maybe, but you don't have to be, and you can't keep anyone out in hopes of protecting them, either. You and I... we weren't even talking, but if Zollner did chose me because I know you, if he picked Ned because of me, then no one is safe. Anyone in either of our lives could be a target or just end up used because they were convenient.”

Frank nodded. “I just... the idea of someone else being like Callie... I tried to figure out a way to stop it, but I didn't. Now Ned is—”

Nancy put a finger over his lips. “Now Ned is going to get us doing what we do best. We're going to investigate this, no matter what it takes or where it leads us, until we finally stop it. This can't happen again—and all those names on your list—they might not know what they are or what is coming for them. We have to warn them. We have to keep our families and friends safe, and the only way to do that—”

“Kill Zollner?” Frank suggested, lowering her hand.

Nancy met his eyes for a long moment, and he knew she knew he'd been thinking about it. “I'm not sure even that is the answer, Frank. Depending on who he reports to or how large his organization is, that might not be enough.”

“Maybe not,” Frank said, knowing he should tell her and Joe about the call but somehow not able to do so. He didn't know why. Holding that back only helped Zollner.

Nancy ran her hands over her arms, thinking out loud as she did. “I think we have to start with a hotel room away from here, a place to sort of... sit down and sort out this mess. We can talk, make some plans, and rest some, too. I'm not sure I want to leave the area completely—Haggard is our best lead so far, but then we have to get Ned to New York—”

“That could be a problem,” Joe said, and Nancy turned around to face him. Frank watched his brother, hoping this didn't mean what his brain thought it did. “The police just arrested Ned.”


	17. Explanations Overdue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank, Nancy, and Joe try to make a plan. Nancy and Frank have an overdue conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so here is more backstory. Here is possibly an answer to some questions. Not all of them, but a few more.

* * *

“What do you mean, _they arrested Ned?”_

Joe sighed. He knew that his news wasn't going to go over well, and he didn't want to explain it, either. He knew that he hadn't actually done anything wrong, but Nancy wasn't going to accept this, and Frank... Joe didn't know what his brother would think, but nothing about their current situation was good.

He turned to Nancy. “Well, when the police who were supposed to be guarding your room found me sitting on him, his hands bound, in a vandalized room, with you missing, they were a little... concerned. I started to explain the situation—”

“You're probably lucky you weren't arrested yourself,” Frank said, rubbing his forehead. He looked tired, though most of that was probably emotional exhaustion. “Do we even want to know why you weren't arrested and Ned was?”

“I may have produced some identification that shifted the balance in my favor,” Joe said, shrugging. He had what he needed in his wallet, and if he hadn't, he'd be right there in the cell with Ned. “I wasn't willing to let myself get trapped in jail overnight, but I almost think it's a safer place for Ned than most would be, especially since we don't have anyone to watch over him.”

“With the exception of the fact that we don't know who in law enforcement we can trust. Not everyone on the list that I made lives here, but there's no way of knowing if the list is complete. Haggard was the third suspicious death but the only one I pegged as false identity,” Frank said. He looked at Nancy and then at Joe. “Not that I think we could have taken him all the way to New York. There's...”

“We couldn't risk taking him on a plane and triggering him,” Nancy agreed, “though we were close to it. And a car has the same risks. Plus our best leads are here—Haggard and the man who killed his killer. He came after me here. Leaving now means abandoning all of that.”

“Only he already tried to kill you once,” Joe reminded her. “He'll do it again. We shouldn't even be here now since it's clear that he's tried to come after you here—and if he hasn't, Zollner has.”

“Or he did it for Zollner.”

Joe looked at Frank, watching him as he closed his eyes and let out a breath. “Hey. What is it? Do you have some kind of proof that this _was_ all Zollner?”

“He... may have hinted that it was.”

“May have?” Joe repeated. “Wait, when was this? He didn't have time to send another card, and it wasn't in the flowers or the broken glass. You're not...”

“...Making that up?” Frank finished for him. “No. He called me.”

“What?”

Frank shook his head. “Zollner is in isolation, remember? He has no phone access. Though... it sounded a lot like him. So someone has some means of imitating his voice. Maybe he does have a partner. Maybe he is free—he claimed he was—all I know is that the call was one attempt to screw with my head after another, and I don't think we should trust anything that person said.”

Joe didn't believe this. “How does he even _have_ your number, Frank? You changed it after Zollner took you the first time. And then when you got Callie back. And I know you were thinking of changing it again.”

“Yes, but I didn't change who I gave my number to or the service provider,” Frank said. Then he laughed almost hysterically. “And if we're talking about him having the reach he does, why would it surprise anyone that Zollner has my phone number? It would be more surprising if he didn't.”

“I just hate the idea of him being able to reach you, to mess with you,” Joe said. “Maybe we should trade phones until we can get you a new one.”

“No. He's not going to call again. He knows I won't answer.”

Nancy looked at him. “Frank, Joe is right. He shouldn't have any way of contacting you.”

“We can argue about that later. First you need to call your dad and start arranging to get Ned out of jail and to the help he needs,” Frank told her. “And you'd better do it while we're on the move—we need a safe place to regroup and start planning our next step.”

Nancy nodded. “I thought about returning to where Ned and I stayed last night, but I don't think that's a good idea. We need a different hotel.”

Joe nudged his brother forward. “Come on. To the car.”

* * *

“You sure know how to show a girl a good time, Hardy,” Nancy joked feebly as they walked up to their room. As far as roadside motels went, this one gave dump a good name and made her wish she'd never watched _Psycho._ She refused to shudder—or think about the possibility that either of her companions could turn on her like Ned had.

Joe was still a strong target for manipulation, after all.

“I'm the best at it,” Joe joked back, fighting off a yawn. “I'm not sure how much longer we could have circled around trying to find some place they wouldn't look for us.”

“I would have preferred being able to switch cars,” Frank said as he moved past them and into the room, apparently unwilling to stay outside any longer than he had to. He'd been okay at the hospital, but now it was dark, and this place was admittedly creepy.

“No one will care. We're at the Bates motel,” Joe muttered, looking around the so-called double beds. The brothers would have a hard time sharing one of them—Nancy wasn't sure it would fit Joe by himself. “And so help me, if someone's in the shower—”

“You could always check.”

“No way,” Joe shot back, shaking his head at his brother. “Zollner is your pervert, not mine. You go check.”

Frank glared at him before going into the bathroom and almost slamming the door behind him. Nancy turned to Joe. “You know—”

“I shouldn't have said it, I know,” Joe said, rubbing his neck. “I'm not perfect, Nancy. I'm trying to be supportive of my brother, but I'm tired, cranky, and worried as hell. My tongue slips sometimes.”

She nodded. “I know. Believe me, I had a hard time trying to support Ned. Why don't you go ahead and get some rest? You can have the first shift, since we'll need to keep watch.”

Joe snorted. “You're the one who has a concussion.”

“I'll probably end up second shift, but I... would rather not attempt to sleep just now,” Nancy said, and Joe grimaced with understanding. He pulled off his jacket, dumped it by the bed and kicked off his shoes. She didn't think it would take him long to fall asleep. She sat down in the chair next to the table, almost knocking it over when she did.

Frank came out of the bathroom, giving the bed a glance before walking over to join her at the table. “He can sleep anywhere.”

“Whereas you can't sleep anywhere, can you?”

Frank managed a grimace, not denying her words. He tried to lean on the table, stopping when it wobbled. He shook his head, sighing.

“Tell me about Zollner.”

Frank's head jerked toward her. “What? No. Not—”

“Yes, now. Joe already knows, but I never heard the full story, and you can't say I don't need to know or have a right to—I'm already involved. This guy went after Ned. I want details, Frank, and I won't let you out of giving me them. I can't.”

Frank lowered his head. “This would be easier if this place had a minibar.”

She almost smiled. “I'm sure. I almost suggested getting something earlier, but with my concussion...”

“Yeah,” Frank said. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. “Sometimes, when I think about it, it doesn't seem... real. The start of it was so... innocuous. I didn't think I was getting in that deep. It was...”

“What?”

Frank fidgeted in his chair. “I always thought I'd know what I wanted to do with my life, you know. I had my pick of possible positions, though, and that was part of the problem. I couldn't pick. Dad's agency, working on my own with Joe, any number of offers from the alphabet soup... So I put that decision on hold and buried myself in school, chasing degree after degree like it would hold the answer...”

“And it didn't.”

He shook his head. “Investigating is in my blood, and any thought of turning away from that didn't last for more than a few minutes. Being a doctor or a computer programmer or... None of it really compared to the thrill and pull of our work.”

“And while you thought you were away from it, you got pulled back into it.”

“Yeah.” Frank rubbed his forehead. “It wasn't much of a case at first—a few petty thefts on campus. Everyone figured it was some kind of prank or some broke student, something that would be found out about in no time. I did, too.”

“Only it wasn't.”

He shook his head. “No. It turned out that Zollner's organization was orchestrating several seemingly small thefts across the country, using university access to dangerous chemicals so as not to alert anyone to how much was going missing and being amassed in secret. I connected the thefts to students who worked for shell companies and then... I ended up tracing the shell companies to other shell companies until I finally pinned down a name.”

“Zollner?”

“Yes... and no.” Frank looked at his hands. “It was an alias, and I seemed to be at a dead end then. I was frustrated, but I turned everything I had over to the authorities. The FBI was involved because the thefts crossed jurisdictions. I thought, as much as I hated it, that was the end of it.”

Nancy almost rose, wanting to do something, anything, rather than sit, but her stomach was twisted in knots enough to make her think she might lose control of it—and she knew worse was coming. “What changed?”

“The agent I gave my information to ended up dead. It was supposedly just a car accident, but something about that didn't sit well with me, so when I heard about it...” Frank rose, starting to pace. “I found evidence it wasn't an accident. I went back to the alias, and I finally found Zollner. I found a monster. The sorts of things I could connect him to made my original case seem like a prank he was playing. It... I started assembling a case, put all the theories and evidence together that I had, wanting to get something on Zollner to put him away for life. And I thought I had it. I was... I was close.”

Nancy waited. She wanted to get up and comfort him, but she didn't think now was the right time. He didn't want anyone by him, not now.

“I didn't think Zollner knew about me. I was... completely overconfident. I thought I had enough and I was going to turn over the evidence in the morning. I walked out of the house to get something from my car... I never even saw him. He... I woke up in his car, and he was driving like a crazy person... He kept talking about not having much time and knowing it... I tried to get out of the car but couldn't... and when it stopped...”

Frank shuddered then, and Nancy did rise, going to his side. He turned into her, accepting the embrace as his strength faltered. She helped him sit again, just holding him as he struggled to cope with the memories he was reliving in his mind.

“I'm sorry, Frank. I'm so sorry...”

* * *

Frank knew he should move, but he couldn't drag himself up again. He shouldn't have let Nancy talk him into telling her anything—she was right, though, she deserved to know, needed to know—but he didn't know how to talk about it without losing it. He tried, but every time he hit that point, the one just after Zollner got him alone...

He shuddered. He didn't want to think about that. He knew he'd been hurt many times, but somehow what Zollner did always managed to overshadow those other times.

“I can't...”

“You don't have to finish now,” Nancy said, and Frank grunted. He didn't know how he could continue, but he felt weak and useless, not being able to even finish a story.

Frank lifted his head and looked at her. “I should be able to. It's not like Zollner was the first person to kidnap me or torture me. It's kind of a theme in my life, though admittedly, it's Joe's role more than it is mine. He gets in trouble, I freak out, but I always find him... And it's not like he didn't find me. Between him and Dad, Zollner had me for a comparatively short time. Callie was gone for so much longer...”

“That doesn't make what he did to you less traumatic. Zollner still tortured you. He might not have made you into a pawn like he did Callie or Ned, but he still hurt you and put you through psychological hell. He's still doing it.”

Frank closed his eyes. “It feels like nothing more than an excuse. I should be better than this, and I'm not. Joe's been fighting for me, but I don't have it in me to fight for myself.”

“When you were alone with Zollner, what did he do?”

Frank frowned. “What does that matter?”

She snorted. “Come on, Frank. You held yourself together through that story right up until you got to where he abducted you. Not only that, but I _know_ you. You may not have the biggest ego in the world—sometimes I think Joe does—but you are usually very calm, competent... even confident. Whatever happened between you and Zollner eroded all of that. He is playing headgames with you now, but they started there, didn't they?”

Frank pulled away from her, forcing himself to his feet with the aid of the wall. “Of course they did. He hurt me and said things I can't get out of my head while doing it, and if I analyze some of them, they're signs that all of this was coming, but then that's all paranoia and I can't trust any of what I remember.”

“What did he do to put the doubts in your head? Did he actually start with his brainwashing techniques on you?”

“No. I don't think so. I'm not... He said he _could_ do things to me, to make me forget my family and everything except what he wanted from me, and he talked about pushing me toward what would provoke me to kill... There were headgames, Nancy, but not ones like what he did to Ned or Callie. Not unless Zollner did something like... altered my memories, in which case... I don't know that I know anything of use. If you're looking for erosion of confidence... it's that. I can't trust my own mind. I don't know if I'm the same kind of ticking time bomb or if anyone else around me is.”

“I trust you.”

He laughed. “You really shouldn't.”


	18. In the Light of Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dawn comes. Nancy, Frank, and Joe try and continue their investigation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote three-quarters of this last night and thought it all crap. I knew the answer to the part that kept nagging at Frank and the others, but I didn't know how to get them to see it. I went to bed with it unfinished, thinking about throwing it out and scrapping the whole story. This morning, I think I figured out how to get that missing piece out in the open, and that led to the last scene.
> 
> There's still a part of me that says scrap it all, but there's another part that says there's actually an end in sight and things that people want to see can actually happen. Not that I can say what those things are... those are spoilers...

* * *

“You didn't sleep last night, did you?” Joe asked, arms folded over his chest as he studied his brother. Nancy was still out—she must have slipped down onto Frank's shoulder after drifting off against the wall—they weren't sitting that close to each other and the angle couldn't have been comfortable enough for her to fall asleep that way. Frank, though, was still awake, just sitting there. Joe didn't think Frank had done much besides stare into the distance all night.

“No, but... someone needed to keep watch.”

“That wasn't supposed to be you alone,” Joe reminded him. “We were doing this in shifts. We'd agreed on that.”

“Nancy asked me about Zollner,” Frank said, voice flat. “There was no sleeping after that. She... she wanted to keep talking—I think she wants an answer to what happened to Ned. I don't have it. I still can't figure out why Zollner would fixate on me like he did. The agent I turned over everything from my preliminary investigation died. Zollner just killed him—I assume because he was too close—but if he was...”

“You were closer, and he let you live,” Joe said. He knelt down next to his brother. “Are you trying to take the blame for that?”

“No, just understand it.” Frank shook his head. “This can't just be about me, Joe. I'm not that important.”

Joe snorted. “You don't think so? What would I do without you?”

“Manage.”

Joe almost hit him. “Come on. You know it wouldn't be that easy. The two of us are a team. Can't break that up. Why do you think I'm so determined to keep you from wallowing in this pit you've found for yourself? Yeah, Zollner made it, but you seem to dig it deeper than he did. We're all offering to help you out of it, but you won't let us.”

“Joe, if it were as simple as pulling myself over a ledge, don't you think I would have already done it or let you yank me over? This isn't... If I could understand why Zollner has done this to all of us... There has to be more than just me. Is it our connections? We've worked on cases for so many different agencies, solved cases for famous, important, and rich people, ones with influence... We have connections that make that six degrees of separation game seem like a joke.”

“You think that's what they're after? Our connections?”

“Damn it, Joe, I don't _know,”_ Frank snapped, waking Nancy in the process, not that she wouldn't have been because he was up and on his feet after he spoke. She would have fallen over if his voice hadn't startled her awake the moment before. Joe grimaced, deciding to let Frank storm off without following him this time. He could blow off some steam outside, and then maybe he'd be calm enough to talk about it.

Nancy groaned, pushing herself to her feet with the help of the wall. “Ugh. I know I didn't think much of the beds, but I did intend to use one last night.”

Joe grunted, rubbing his back. “You didn't miss much, trust me.”

She nodded, running her fingers through her hair. “Do I want to know what just happened with Frank?”

“Not much. The usual. Him blaming himself, tied up in knots about Zollner and why he's doing this to us. I think now that Ned—”

“I may have made that worse,” Nancy admitted. “I wanted... I asked him about Zollner. I wanted to know why he would have targeted Ned. It doesn't make sense if you look at this as one giant game with Frank alone. We all know the best way to get to Frank, and it isn't Ned.”

“No,” Joe agreed. “It's me.”

* * *

Frank leaned against the outside of the hotel, closing his eyes. He wished it was that easy to shut out Zollner and everything else with him. If they could focus on the evidence, on some concrete part of this rather than the part in his mind, than maybe they would make progress toward stopping him for good. That was... if any of this was actually Zollner and not someone else just using that man and his games to get past Frank and the others.

Oh, hell.

Was that really it? Was someone actually using Zollner as a way to get away with other crimes? Or was that just more paranoia?

“Frank?”

He looked over at the door to the room. Joe and Nancy had just come out of it. She forced a smile. “Dad caught a flight in late last night. He wants to arrange for Ned's bail and getting him to the therapist as soon as possible.”

“And he brought some reinforcements,” Joe added. “I hope it's enough—Ned's programming isn't like Callie's. I mean, I didn't see much of hers, just that one time when she spaced out really bad, but she didn't get scary angry like Ned does.”

“I think, given that they must have had less time Ned than Callie—his programming evidently replaced a planned trip so that no one would notice whereas Callie was taken and held for months instead of weeks—they used what they had available—and it wouldn't take much to pick up on Ned's resentment of... well, his secondary place in Nancy's life,” Frank said, not looking at her when he said it. Though they rarely talked in the last year or so, the times she mentioned problems with Ned, it was almost always about the same thing—her work—her cases—taking precedence over everything else in her life, especially him. A few cases she'd worked with Frank really didn't help that, but he knew that regardless of what might have been between them, that wasn't the real source of trouble in Ned and Nancy's relationship—if there was trouble at all.

Nancy sighed. “I wish I'd really taken the time to... to face what I was doing before now. Why did it take Gary being a professional killer and almost dying to make me see how badly I treated Ned?”

Frank looked at her. “It isn't too late. Ned can get help, get the programming undone.”

“And Callie? Can you go back after all that happened?” Joe asked.

Frank choked. “I... I don't know. I can't even talk to her right now, not after hurting her like I did, and being the cause of all of this—I just don't know. Not that I'm in a state to think about that because I can't think with everything else going on—I'm still stuck on why Zollner is doing this. If it was just revenge, it would have been simpler for him to kill me. All of this... There has to be another reason.”

“One thing I noticed in the story you told me last night,” Nancy began, and Frank frowned at her. “You were the one who connected Zollner's alias back to him. No one else did that before you, did they? You just kept digging until you had the right person, and that tenacity...”

“Is what? Worth all this?” Frank shook his head. “I don't think so. Me finding him doesn't merit a whole charade of brainwashing people I know... Something is missing, but I can't find it, and I'm losing it in the process because I can't see past it. I thought for a minute that was what someone wanted—”

“Someone actively using Zollner to get past our investigation?” Joe frowned. “Well, it would be effective—one look at you says that—but we didn't _have_ a case. You haven't worked one since Callie disappeared. The names we reviewed for Dad were the first thing you've really looked into since then. Now if their goal was to keep you from investigating, period, they'd almost won that war already.”

Frank gave Joe a look. His brother didn't back down.

Nancy cleared her throat. “As much as I want to know why this is happening, I need to meet my father, and we only have the one car. We'll have to continue this conversation on the road.”

* * *

“Nancy,” Carson said, pulling her into his arms. “I was worried about you.”

“Dad, I'm fine. I know it sounds like I wouldn't be, but you know me... a concussion is really just routine. So is someone trying to kill me,” Nancy said, trying to be nonchalant about it. She knew her father would be upset—anyone would be, under the circumstances—and telling herself that he would just accept that easily was only her trying to fool herself. Her father knew her work was dangerous. He didn't try and stop her, and she loved him for it. She wasn't blind, though. He did worry, and he didn't always like what she did. No one would.

“Nancy...”

She sighed. “I know. It's not good. None of it is. I'm worried about Ned, worried about Frank—he's taking this hard, blaming himself, and he keeps thinking he'll have some kind of answer to why this is all happening, and I wanted him to have it, but I'm not sure he does. Maybe there is no reason for this.”

Carson shook his head. “That I find hard to believe, especially from you. You don't like coincidences, and you always find the reason.”

Nancy ran her hands over her arms. “It's just... confusing, Dad. It doesn't make sense. Frank may have been one of the first if not the _only_ one to uncover Zollner's real identity behind all the aliases and shells he was hiding from, but even so, why would that make Zollner go after Callie the way he did? And now Ned? Even if I were to buy into a crazy theory like someone was arranging for Ned and Callie to be out of the way, that's a lot of trouble to go through instead of just killing them. It doesn't add up.”

“It will, when you have more of the pieces,” Carson told her. “You don't have what you need yet, but when you do, you'll figure it out.”

She sighed. “I don't know. I haven't been all that good at seeing what's right in front of me. With Ned... I just now realized all that I did, the mistakes I made... and I can't even start to fix it because he's been programmed like Callie—”

“He's not dead,” Carson said. “There is still time.”

“Your dad's right, Nancy,” Bess said, and Nancy turned to her with a smile. She accepted the hug from her friend, clinging tight for a moment. Bess stepped back and looked at her. “I had to come. I couldn't forgive myself—I encouraged you to go on this trip and—”

“It's not your fault,” Nancy told her. “None of us knew that Ned had been used like that. We may have discussed the possibility a couple times, but we weren't sure. We all assumed we were being paranoid—even after he attacked Frank. If I hadn't actually triggered him, we still wouldn't know for sure. You couldn't have known.”

Bess nodded, still upset. “I offered to help your dad get Ned to the doctors. George is doing what she can to get down here, too. I hope a friendly face... is a good idea and not another trigger.”

Nancy hoped so, too, but there was no way of knowing. Frank was somewhat of an expert on Zollner and his methods, but he didn't have those answers. He'd guessed a few things, pinpointed one of Ned's triggers, but that was guesswork. “I hope it helps, too, and I can't thank you enough for being willing to do this. It is a risk. We don't know what might happen.”

“The charges here are a mere formality,” Carson said. “I expect most of them will be dropped. They made a few assumptions after they found him with Joe, decided Ned was lying about the other man in the maze and that _he_ was the only one who tried to kill you—”

“That's not true. There was someone else there,” Nancy insisted. “The man in the leather jacket was the one who tried to kill me, not Ned. I know I don't remember the part where Ned rescued me, but he did. What happened with Ned came later. It... It actually isn't even connected, not unless Zollner really is behind that list of names Frank and Joe found, and we're not sure he is.”

“We know,” Carson said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “We will get the charges against Ned dropped, and we will get him to the help he needs.”

“He's in good hands,” Bess said, trying for a smile that was braver than she was.

“Now that I believe,” Joe said, coming up behind them. Bess turned around and hugged him, getting a smile out of him as he held onto her. “It's good to see you, Bess. It's been too long.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, smiling at him as she ended the hug. “We need to meet for something other than a case sometime.”

Joe snorted. “Yeah, but given our track record with 'vacations,' that will never happen.”

Bess laughed. Then she caught a glimpse of something behind Joe. “Hey, where do you think you're sneaking off to? You're not getting away without a hug, too, Mister.”

Nancy couldn't help smiling, and she saw her dad and Joe doing the same as Bess got hold of Frank and made sure he got an extra long hug as well. Frank stood there, stiff, but he didn't force her off. 

“I missed both of you. Don't think it was just Joe, much as I like flirting with him,” Bess said. “I'm just as glad to see you.”

“You shouldn't be,” Frank said, shaking his head as he pulled away from her hold.

“It's not your fault.”

Frank snorted as he walked away from them. “Sure it isn't.”

Joe forced a smile, looking around at the others. He shook his head as Frank got further away. “Sorry about that. He's... not exactly having a good day. Hell, he hasn't had one since Zollner abducted him, but right now... Well, we actually came up, not for a reunion, but to tell Nancy we were headed out to where Haggard died.”

She folded her arms over her chest. “Without me?”

“You had arrangements to make,” Joe said. “We figured you could finish up here while we got started. Well, _I_ did. Frank's too agitated to do much, but I thought if we could just get somewhere where he could feel like he was _doing_ something about this mess, it would help.”

“I agree,” Nancy said, “but I want to be a part of that, too. You could have waited—”

“And you can go ahead and go,” Carson told her. She looked at him, but he gave her a slight smile. “We don't know if seeing you will upset Ned again, and we need him calm to travel. We'll keep you updated, I promise. You just... go do what you have to do.”

Nancy hugged him again. “Thank you, Dad. For everything.”

* * *

“Falling off a ladder in a barn. You'd think they could arrange something more... original,” Joe muttered, shaking his head as he looked around him. “And maybe something a little... cleaner.”

Nancy laughed, not bothering to dust off her jeans, though she'd already gotten some hay on them and mud on her shoes. “Shouldn't I be the one complaining? I'm the girl here.”

“Ah, Nan,” Joe teased. “No one thinks of you that way.”

She reached over and hit him. Frank looked at them both, shaking his head. He didn't know how they were able to laugh and joke about any of this. He had tried, a few times, but he knew his heart wasn't in it. Joe probably did, too, since it was another part of going through the motions, making everyone think he was okay when he wasn't.

He ignored them and walked around the site. This all felt... staged, though he didn't know if that was just the paranoia or if that was a real sense from the scene itself. He walked back to the doors and stopped, looking out. “Strange place for a barn, this close to the property line.”

“Hmm,” Joe said, joining him at the door. “You've got a point there. It's practically right up against the neighbor's yard. They could have seen _everything_ if they'd just looked down their hill.”

“Maybe that is why the man in the gray suit was sloppy,” Nancy said, folding her arms over her chest. “If they saw the 'accident,' then there wouldn't even be a doubt about the way he died. Still, they could have seen him around. Or something else.”

“If Haggard was one of Zollner's... projects,” Joe began, “then he might have shown some odd behavior over the years.”

“He might even have been slipping,” Frank said. “The programming could have been wearing off—which was why the clean up was needed. We don't have any reason to think Dad's investigation into the names started this whole thing. The only way it did that—”

“Was if we knew for sure Zollner was watching and caught on, and we don't know that,” Joe finished. “So... We should go have a chat with the neighbors.”

“You go ahead,” Frank told him. When they both looked at him, he shook his head. “I'm not in a good state to interview anyone. I've got a few more things to look at here, and then I'll go up to the house, but if the neighbors can see right in here—”

“They already know we're here, and we'd better have an explanation ready because the police could be on their way,” Nancy finished. She looked at Joe. “You want to come with me, see if we can head them off or distract them?”

“Both of us? Leaving Frank alone?”

Frank glared at his brother. Nancy grimaced. “It's not ideal, but I think we'll want to get a look inside their house, too. You have the credentials, but I have the believably small bladder of a woman.”

Joe laughed. “I can't believe you said that.”

Nancy shrugged. “It's not true, but the excuse has come in very handy over the years. Believe me, if my bladder was as small as I've claimed it was over the years, I'd never have survived any of the times I was kidnapped—at least not without a lot of embarrassment.”

Joe grinned, offering Nancy his arm. They started up toward the house. Frank rubbed his forehead, turning back to where the ladder supposedly was when Haggard fell. Logically, there was _no_ good reason for him to have been on it. He wasn't fixing anything, not in that position. This whole thing was sloppy—the only reason Haggard would have been up there was if he planned on killing himself.

Was that it? Could Haggard's programming have driven him to it? Or were they planning on making it look like a suicide instead of an accident? Why change gears like that? It made no sense.

Frank needed to get inside Haggard's house. He might be able to find some indication of Haggard's state of mind, and that could fill in some of the blanks, maybe even prove or disprove the connection between Zollner and Haggard.

He started toward the Haggard's house, leaving the barn behind him. One glance behind him showed no sign of the others—they must have been invited inside or invited themselves in—and that was fine. He could handle this part of the investigation.

He hoped.

He crossed the yard to the house, climbing the single step to the porch and looking around. Nothing here suggested much in the way of neglect. Haggard had been a dutiful homeowner, seemingly dedicated to his farm. Not the sort of person who would be involved with Zollner—but if there was a connection, that was the whole point of it, wasn't it?

Frank spotted a gap between the door and the jam, nudging the door with his foot. He would have expected the police to lock it after Haggard's death, even if he'd left it open, but he wasn't going to complain about not having to try and pick it. His skills were rusty at best.

“Not my finest work, is it, Franklin?”

Frank stopped just inside the door. He swallowed, trying to decide if he was hallucinating or not. Zollner was standing in front of him, and that should not be possible. “No. Too sloppy.”

“I could say the same about you,” Zollner said with a smile twisting his lips. His dark eyes held an unnatural mirth. “A month you don't leave your home, and then when you do... you spend a surprising amount of time alone. I would have thought your overprotective brother would have been a lot closer to you, never leaving your side.”

“You're supposed to be in prison,” Frank reminded him. “I shouldn't need protection from you.”

“You were never out of my reach. You know that,” Zollner said, removing a gun and pointing it at Frank. “And now I think it is time we finished what we started, don't you?”

“No.”


	19. Talks and Troubles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nancy and Joe talk to the neighbors. Frank's conversation doesn't go as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the investigative part of this in mind, but it kind of got overshadowed a little. The plot wanted to rush past it.

* * *

“I did expect you to be stubborn,” Zollner went on as if he and Frank were having a normal conversation. “Such is your nature and why we have been working all this time to prepare you for the next step.”

Frank snorted. “You're going to pretend now that all of this was planned in advance? That you meant to this? You've got delusions, and clearly one of them is that you're omnipotent and omnipowerful, but if you expect me to agree with that, you're an idiot. No, I _know_ you're an idiot. Joe and Nancy are not that far away.”

Zollner smiled. “I am not afraid of them, though I am amused—You _do_ seem to rise to the occasion when direct confrontation is involved. We will have to intensify our efforts.”

Frank moved as Zollner spoke, but Zollner had expected it. The gun went off, sound muffled by some kind of silencer, and pain cut across the side of Frank's head. He put his hand to the wound, unable to keep his balance, stumbling to his knees. His vision was going in and out, and he realistically had no idea how long he'd remain conscious.

“I thought you wanted me alive,” Frank muttered, fighting against the pain and trying to move away from Zollner as he advanced forward.

“I do, but I also need you to be easy to control and head wounds bleed so much... very convenient all at the same time,” Zollner told him, and Frank frowned, but he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer.

* * *

“Hi. I'm Joe Hardy,” Joe began, opening his wallet to produce his identification for the homeowners. Nancy couldn't see which agency the badge belonged to, and neither could they, but he didn't really need that as much as the implication of authority, which he used like an expert. “My colleague and I were hoping to ask you a few questions about your neighbor, Mr. Haggard. Can we come in?”

“Yes, of course,” the woman said, opening the door to let them in. “I did talk to the police when they came to investigate Jensen's death, but they didn't ask very much of us. I thought that was kind of strange when I looked in the paper and saw where they said he died. Our house looks straight down into the barn.”

“We noticed,” Nancy said. “That is why we wanted to talk to you. On the day that Haggard died, did you see anything?”

“Well, you might have to be more specific than that,” the other woman said, laughing. She played with the knot in her checkered shirt, giving Joe another look, even if she was a few years older than him—and saying a few was a bit generous. “I saw plenty of things, but not all of them matter to you, I'm sure.”

Nancy forced a smile. She wasn't sure how much of this she could take. Frank was the lucky one, staying outside as he had. She was tempted to go back to him. “Actually, before we get started, would you mind if I used the restroom? We drove a lot farther than I expected, and all of a sudden, that extra large cup of coffee has caught up to me.”

“Not at all,” the housewife said, her eyes on Joe. Nancy thought that look was slightly predatory, and she might regret not being a part of _that_ show, but at the same time, she didn't know that she needed to see it. “Upstairs and on your left, first door. Can't miss it.”

“Thank you,” Nancy said, quickly availing herself of the opportunity to escape. She headed up the stairs, letting the other woman take Joe into the kitchen. He'd be fine if he was able to get some food, and he'd probably have more success with the woman than Nancy would.

She was having trouble trying not to smack her, and she didn't even know why. Was Nancy another victim? She didn't remember getting taken, and she knew she hadn't had any vacations where Zollner could have gotten to her. All of her vacations turned into mysteries. She remembered those cases without any gaps.

Or was Zollner that good?

Damn it, she was becoming just as paranoid as Frank was. Zollner was going to drive them _all_ crazy. Even if they didn't flip because of the brainwashing, the stress and paranoia would get to them, just like was getting to Frank.

She went to the sink and started running some water. Splashing it on her face, she tried to calm herself down. She refused to let her mind take this paranoia too far. If she did, she'd shut down as bad as Frank was, and they couldn't afford to have more than one of them like that.

She turned off the water and went to the window. This one faced down onto the Haggard farm, and Nancy could see right into the barn from here. In fact, that seemed to be a favorite pastime of someone's around here, judging from the binoculars on window sill. 

She lifted them up and checked on the view. Maybe this housewife had a bit of a crush on Haggard. She liked to watch him work in the barn. She could have been watching the day that Haggard had his “accident.”

Though... Nancy couldn't see Frank from here. He had said he would go up to the house when he was done in the barn, but she hadn't expected him to go there already.

She started to put down the binoculars when she saw a figure in the barn. She raised the glasses and took another look, confirming her suspicions. That was _not_ Frank.

* * *

“So,” Joe said after Nancy had practically _ran_ up the stairs away from them, leaving him alone with their host, “tell me what you know about Jensen Haggard, Missus... Uh...”

“Miss,” she corrected with a smile, and Joe wished his heart was in this. Not that she didn't seem nice enough, but while flirting was almost as natural as breathing was to him, he was struggling to keep a smile on his face. He would much rather be back with his brother in the barn. The interviews could have waited. They should have done this when they were all together. Joe knew better than to leave Frank alone. He _knew._ “Grant. You can call me Roberta, though.”

“Roberta,” Joe said, nodding. He'd have to make sure he used it. “What can you tell me about Haggard?”

“Oh, he was such a strange man,” Roberta began, going to the fridge. “Would you like some lemonade? I just made it this morning.”

“Sure,” Joe said, distracted. While he wanted to know more about Haggard, he also wanted to get out of here and back to Frank. “What about Haggard was strange? I thought he was just a simple farmer. Nothing seems out of the ordinary—except the way he died.”

“I have never met a man more devoted to his farm,” Roberta said, taking the pitcher over to the table. She set it down and went to the cupboard. “It was unnatural, like he didn't have a mind outside of the place. He wouldn't leave, wouldn't talk about anything but the crops or the machines or the house. It was like he had blinders on.”

“Didn't see what was right in front of him?” Joe asked, watching her bring the glasses over to the table. “Must have been blind.”

She grinned, blushing a little as she filled up his glass. “You're so kind.”

“Was that the only strange thing Haggard did?”

Roberta shook her head. “No, it wasn't. He also had this weird habit—he liked to act like there was nothing and no one before this place, like his life just... began here. Which I know isn't true. Sadly, I've been here all my life. My family goes back four generations in this place, and there never were any Haggards here before him. Still, if you asked him about what he did before he came here, he didn't have an answer. He just went back to work on his farm.”

Joe frowned. He thought that made it sound like Haggard _had_ been one of Zollner's projects, though it was still difficult to be sure. They only had a couple of anecdotes, not anything close to conclusive proof.

“So Haggard has only been here a few years?” Joe asked, sipping from his lemonade. It was sour, almost too disgusting to drink, but Roberta was watching him expectantly. He smiled at her, setting the glass down.

“Well, maybe five or so, but he acted like he'd been here all his life. So weird.”

He heard something thudding down the stairs and turned back to see Nancy in the doorway. She caught her breath and met Joe's eyes. “There's someone in the barn. And it is _not_ Frank.”

Joe didn't need more than that. He ran out of the kitchen and to the door, not bothering to say goodbye to Roberta. They could come back and apologize later, but Frank was in trouble now. They could be overreacting, but Joe wasn't taking any chances. The last time he'd lost his brother, they'd ended up with a year long nightmare that still hadn't ended.

“I know I didn't see any other vehicles when we drove up,” Nancy said as she ran up to Joe's side, trying to keep pace with him. If it was anyone but Frank, he might have slowed down to let her catch up, but not with his brother in danger. “The yard was clear, and the barn was empty. We were all in it.”

“I know,” Joe agreed. He remembered the driveway, a dirt circle cut into the yard, and not one vehicle on it. One house, one barn... No cars. Come to think of it, that was strange. What was Haggard doing out here without a car or a truck of some kind? “Damn it, I knew I shouldn't have left Frank behind.”

Joe's distraction made him trip just before the bottom of the hill, and he swore. Rubbing at his bruised shin, he let Nancy help him back up. “Frank?” 

His brother didn't answer. Joe grimaced as they walked into the barn. Everything seemed to be where it had been when they left. Four empty stalls, two small tractors, and not a person in sight. Hay was strewn about everywhere, but other than that, nothing was out of place.

Nancy looked around, her face pale. “I wasn't making it up, Joe. Someone was down here.”

“I didn't say I doubted you,” Joe told her, moving forward. “I didn't hear anyone or a car when we got out here, but that doesn't mean they weren't here. Frank! Frank, where are you?”

Nancy walked around the corner into the driveway. The only car there was theirs, and Joe couldn't see any sign that it had moved or that his brother was in it. “He was going into the house after he was done in here.”

“Frank!”

Joe followed her up the steps, bumping into her back when she stopped in the doorway to the house. “No.”

Joe pushed her out of the way, needing to know if Frank was there, if he was dead. He wouldn't have thought that Zollner would just... kill Frank, but then they were assuming too much in thinking it was Zollner. If Frank had come across the same man that had tried to kill Nancy, that might have been a different story.

Except... this was Zollner. Or someone wanted them to think it was. They'd left a message in long letters, filling the hallway like something out of a horror film. Joe knew that was half the point, scaring them, but it was working. It would have worked without any of the theatrics.

_Come Find Me,_ someone had scrawled in a darkening red liquid that looked a lot like blood. _Z._

“Zollner,” Nancy said, her eyes on the message. 

“He's got Frank,” Joe said, sick to his stomach. “Again.”


	20. Friends and Futile Searches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nancy and Joe look for Frank, with some help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I still haven't explained everything. I blame Zollner. He is refusing to share that, even as he gloats in my head.

* * *

“You mind explaining what you two were doing out here?”

As a matter of fact, Joe did. Roberta must have called the police when Joe and Nancy ran out of her place, because not long after they found Zollner's message, they were staring right into the face of a very disgruntled sheriff. Joe knew it could have been Zollner, too, since that psycho was sick enough to play that sort of game. He'd love using the cops to delay them from finding Frank, wouldn't he?

“We were looking into the death of Jensen Haggard,” Joe answered, figuring that giving the locals most of the truth was the easiest route to getting them out of this mess. “We were told that his death related to an on-going investigation of ours, and we wanted to see if that was reliable information.”

The sheriff folded his arms over his chest. “Is that so?”

Joe nodded. “It is. Look, you might not like us being on your turf, and technically, we should have called, but you don't know how many crank stunts this guy pulls. He claims to be involved from everything from the moon landing to Jimmy Hoffa's disappearance. Trouble is, he's done enough to where we can't afford to discount things without checking on them.”

“Right.” The sheriff turned to Nancy. “No one mentioned your connection to this when you were attacked. Or are you not the same Nancy Drew that was put in the hospital less than two days ago?”

“Nancy is a colleague and our witness,” Joe said before she could argue with the sheriff. “The man who attacked her could have been working on orders from the man who left that message—we're almost certain he was now. This is the sort of game he plays.”

“Haggard fell off a damn ladder. There was nothing to prove anything other than a drunk man being stupid and getting on a ladder. He fell. No conspiracy. Just a bit of a tragedy. Now you come along and claim not only was he murdered, but that murderer attacked her, and they are all working for some great mastermind who's also a crackpot. There's blood all over that house.”

“Just the hallway,” Nancy corrected, “and yes—that is what we're claiming. Zollner has taken credit for all of this, though whether or not that is true or not remains to be seen. It could be that this was all a feint to get our expert out of the office and where he could be attacked. Again.”

Joe grimaced. If Zollner had used this, used _him,_ to get Frank, he didn't know what he would do. He'd never forgive himself. “Damn it. We're wasting time. We have to find Frank.”

Nancy put a hand on Joe's arm. “We don't know that we're wasting anything yet. There wasn't a car, no way for that man to leave before we got here—we weren't even gone that long. It's still possible that Frank is on the grounds somewhere.”

Joe shook his head. “No. I think Zollner was waiting for us. For Frank. He took him and is long gone by now.”

Nancy nodded. “And that's very possible, but Joe, if you're wrong and we don't search this house and all of the grounds, then Zollner wins. He'd be hurting Frank right under our noses, making sure Frank knew we didn't check thoroughly. We have to be sure that he's not here, and the sheriff can help us with that.”

“While Zollner gets away with Frank.”

She shook her head. “No. We need roadblocks and any sort of traffic tracking we can find. Frank said that the last time Zollner had him he drove like a crazy person—if he's doing that again, someone on the road will notice. We'll have to coordinate both ends of this investigation, and you're the one with the badge that can pull rank.”

Joe looked at her. “Whatever happened to yours, Drew?”

Nancy swallowed. “That's a long story we don't have time for right now. I'll go help with the search. You make those phone calls.”

* * *

Bess grabbed for her phone, giving Carson and Ned an apologetic smile as she did. She didn't know who was calling, but she didn't think it could be anything that wasn't important, so she had to take it. She had actually expected a call from Nancy by now—one to check up on Ned and her father and the other to tell Bess what progress the others had made.

She let the call connect even though she didn't recognize the number. “Hello?”

“Bess,” Nancy breathed out the name in a rush. “Are you okay? Is everyone there—”

“We're fine, George,” Bess said, distancing herself from the men to continue the conversation. Something about the way Nancy was talking made her think that letting Ned know she was on the other end of the line a bad idea. “Have you been able to get off work yet?”

“Bess—”

“All right, I'm out of Ned's earshot. Tell me what's wrong,” Bess said, not looking back at the others. “Nancy, what's wrong?”

“Is Ned really okay?”

Bess nodded. “Yeah. He's fine. He seems like himself, just... a bit more heartbroken and guilty. I mean—he hasn't shown any other signs of programming. He must not have anything your dad or I can set off, not yet, anyway. He's really upset about what happened, but he's okay in every other respect other than the brainwashing. Which, you know, no one was going to expect him to be okay in.”

“Good.”

“We should be able to get him in to the doctor as soon as we get there,” Bess added. “We only stopped for some food. I think your dad wants to drive straight through, and as tired as I am, I kind of agree. Ned's treatment shouldn't be delayed. At all. We have to get him back to his charming practically perfect self.”

“Bess...”

“Is Joe hurt? Because you sound like the world ended, and you're not telling me anything, and since Joe and I are pretty close and have considered being a thing a few times—”

“Frank's missing. We think Zollner took him.”

Bess almost dropped her phone. “What? He was fine a few hours ago. And I thought that guy was in jail. That creep is supposed to be behind bars.”

“According to the agents in charge that Joe talked to, he still is behind bars,” Nancy said, and Bess could hear the frustration in her voice. “That doesn't change the facts, and the fact is that while Joe and I were interviewing the neighbors, Frank vanished. Someone left a note behind in blood claiming to be Zollner.”

“Frank's blood?”

“The test results aren't back yet, but we assume so,” Nancy said. “We were only in that other house for a few minutes. It shouldn't even be possible. As soon as I saw someone in the barn, we ran back, but it was already too late. Joe is holding it together right now, but he blames himself and you know what he's like when Frank's in trouble.”

“Can you keep him calm?”

“I don't know. I'm not that calm myself,” Nancy admitted. “It was my idea to go up to the house with Joe. I feel just as guilty as he does. The sheriff's been helping us search the grounds, but Joe's right about Zollner already being gone, and I don't think that roadblocks will stop him.”

“What about this guy you were investigating? Did any of that help?”

“Joe got a little bit from the neighbor that suggested he actually was one of Zollner's projects, but we don't have proof, and right now, I don't know that we could get it. The sheriff is very annoyed with us, and Frank is... gone.”

Bess bit her lip. “Joe said last time they found Frank because Frank had all this research on the guy already prepared, that he had found holdings and properties... Joe and his father found those places and searched them one by one for Frank.”

“If Zollner has decided it's time to finish what he started with Frank, he won't risk being interrupted like that a second time.”

“Maybe not,” Bess said, “but it's another place to start, isn't it?”

* * *

“George?”

She looked at her phone and frowned, blinking sleep out of her eyes. She hadn't meant to doze off, but switching her shifts to get some time off meant a least one double, and she was fresh off it, her lunch cold and forgotten in front of her thanks to her impromptu nap. “Do I even want to know whose number you're calling on, Nancy?”

“No, probably not,” Nancy admitted. She sounded tense. “Look, George, I know you were planning on coming down here to help, but I think I might need you to stay where you are. Fenton Hardy will be sending you a list of properties and holding companies used by Zollner. They have places in Illinois, and we need to make sure that none of them are being... used right now.”

George tensed. “What happened?”

“Zollner got Frank.”

“Damn. I thought... Isn't he still in jail?”

“Supposedly, so supposedly we're dealing with someone who works for him, which is why I want to look into everything Zollner's organization owes or has owned. A lot of it was taken when he was arrested, but he must have some assets free or he'd never have been able to abduct and hold Callie or Ned.”

George nodded. “I can do that. I even know a few people who would help.”

“We'll be calling in just about every favor we have,” Nancy said. “And at the same time, I'm worried we shouldn't. We don't know that Ned and Callie were the only ones that Zollner got to.”

“Why not me or Bess, right?”

George could picture Nancy's wince. “I don't even—”

“I know you don't want to think about it,” George told her. “I don't, either, but there's a chance we're all ticking time bombs. So far none of us has shown anything weird, so we have to hope for the best, but the possibility is there.”

“I wish I'd never—”

“Gotten us mixed up in this?” George snorted. “We go because we want to. No one forced us. We wanted to help, and we do. I'll get the list and get the others to help me with it. Is Joe doing the same with anything close to Bayport?”

“Yeah. He told me he was pulling in all of their friends and their father's connections. I didn't recognize all of the names—I think they know more of my friends than I do theirs, which is just wrong—but he's got the same concerns I do. Zollner picked Ned, and I don't know why—he's a bad tool to use against Frank, but against me...”

George drew in a breath and let it out. “Maybe this is a lot bigger than Frank. We still don't know why this guy is doing this, do we?”

“No.”

* * *

“Ah, Franklin. Does this bring back memories for you?” Zollner asked, tracing the knife along one of the scars he'd made the first time Frank was in his hands. Frank tensed, watching the blade, unable to do much else. His hands were cuffed to the back of the seat, and even if they weren't, he suspected he'd been given a muscle relaxant—he'd been grazed when he got shot, but that wouldn't explain why he could barely feel his feet.

“As I recall, last time you drove yourself,” Frank said, wincing as the knife broached his skin. “And you didn't start this until the car had stopped.”

Zollner laughed. “Well, I would love to pride myself on my ability to torture while driving, but that is a little beyond my talents—though I know my driving scared you plenty.”

“Are you planning on indulging in nostalgia the entire time? Because if you are, I'd like to pass,” Frank said, looking around the vehicle for some kind of weapon or just anything he could use. Zollner's choice of transportation this time was some kind of luxury car—if he could trust his vision, it was actually a damn limousine—and most of those had little compartments or gadgets. If there was a bar of some kind, the broken glass from a bottle or a champagne flute could be of use, but Frank didn't see any of that.

“I swear I can see wheels turning,” Zollner said, twisting the knife and making Frank jerk. “Yes, your mind was elsewhere, wasn't it? You're still looking for a way to escape, aren't you?”

Frank met Zollner's gaze. “Would you think that I would honestly do anything else? Why is it that criminals still assume that we are somehow... buddies after what they've done? I would never call you a friend. You kidnapped me. Twice. You _shot_ me. You are cutting my arm, and yet you want to pretend this is some kind of normal conversation? Where does that delusion come from?”

Zollner laughed. He reached over and cupped Frank's head in his hand. “Your defiance is an interesting challenge, one I was told I couldn't overcome, but everyone has a breaking point. You have been so close to yours, and your renewed struggle owes only to the fact that you do better with direct confrontation. Doubt is your greatest weakness, and I have exploited that to my advantage with great enjoyment—and success.”

Frank pulled away from him, ignoring everything that hurt because he did. “I am going to get away from you, and when I do, I will kill you. Maybe in your mind that's some sort of victory, but it's a stupid one. You'll still be dead.”

“Such confidence,” Zollner said, the words turning into a sort of sick purr. “I love it. It is such a shame you are so mistaken about things. You will bend to my will, and I will enjoy it when you do. You see, Franklin, this past year that you've endured? That is nothing. That was arranging pieces into play and setting so much into motion that you can't comprehend the scale of—but you will. You will see it, and you will see where your place is within it, and you will succumb to what is inevitable—and that moment will be... my penultimate achievement.”

“I am never going to serve you like some puppet. If you thought that was going to work on me, you'd have done it when you first had me. You'd never have let Dad and Joe find me. You'd have turned me into something like Callie or Ned or—”

“That is the course reserved for the weak, and the weak must be culled,” Zollner said with a faint smile. “The strong are the only ones worth using, and you Hardys have such strength...”

Frank shook his head. “No. You never touched Joe. You never got near him.”

Zollner laughed.


	21. Defeat and Despair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe returns home without his brother and tries to continue the search.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here is something I think people have been waiting for... Maybe two somethings? I'm not sure. It's not everything, though I stick to a promise, there is that coming... I just haven't gotten there yet. I did spare everyone (okay, mostly me since I couldn't bring myself to write it) a drawn out chapter about the searches and traveling. As for the rest...
> 
> Zollner said the chapter should end where it does. I'm finding he's not one to argue with. He's creepy. He scares me.

* * *

“Time to face the inglorious defeat.”

Nancy looked over at Joe, not sure how he could stand to make a joke right now, but then she figured he had to or he'd just shut down, since he was as close to that as Frank had been not long ago. Joe needed someone to fight, but Zollner was a phantom. They didn't have any leads on him—as far as the authorities were concerned, he was still in prison. Everyone connected to the Hardys—law enforcement or not—was out searching Zollner's holdings, and Nancy's friends were doing the same. She'd called in every favor she had, and she knew Joe had done that, too.

That still left them with exactly _zero_ idea where Frank was.

Zollner hadn't gone back to anywhere none, and as the search teams made their way through the lists, the number of places left to search grew smaller, but not in any comforting sense. Nancy wasn't sure they'd find Frank in any of those places—she was more certain that they _wouldn't._

“You haven't told them yet, have you?” Nancy asked, pulling herself back to Joe and where they were just as Joe opened the door to his parents' house.

Joe winced. “I... um... Not exactly.”

“How did you expect to keep it from them when you asked for the property list and have all of your friends searching those buildings?” Nancy asked, looking at him. “Joe, I know you don't want to upset them, but they must already know.”

“I know. It... Well, this is going to sound stupid and put me back to where I was before we did most of our work together—such a child—but... I don't want to face them. They'll blame me, and I already blame myself. I don't think I can take it from Mom, Dad, and Aunt Gertrude. It is my fault—I knew better than to leave Frank alone—”

“I left him, too,” Nancy reminded him. “We both knew someone should stay with Frank, but we both chose to go. I am as guilty as you are if not more so.”

Joe looked at her. “How is that even—”

“In a word? Ned.”

Joe winced. “Yeah, I suppose you've got me there. I can't compete with that. And I don't want to. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to... Oh. Hello, Mom.”

Nancy looked over at Laura Hardy. _Inglorious defeat indeed._

The older woman seemed to pause, choosing her words before she spoke, and Nancy couldn't quite pin down the emotion that prompted them. Anger? Fear? Relief? “You'd better come in and sit down, Joe. You, too, Nancy. I think we all have a lot to discuss, don't we?”

“Mom, I am _so_ sorry. I swear I thought I was doing the right thing, taking Frank to work on the case, and while he had a few moments where he was—he _was_ doing better. I swear. He managed to pull threads together despite Ned attacking him and Zollner calling to taunt him—he was being the old Frank who managed to think through every crisis—and he was fine when we left him. We weren't even gone that long—”

“Joe,” Laura broke in, interrupting him. “I am not blaming you for what happened to Frank. I knew he had to go, same as your father did. Same as you did. Even Frank knew that. Do I feel guilty for encouraging him to go? Yes. Am I scared out of my mind that this time I am going to lose my son? Yes. But I refuse to lose both of you because you're drowning in guilt. Frank has done enough of that—and I'm afraid you just don't get a turn.”

Joe snorted with the last of her words, and she stepped forward to embrace him. “I see you're playing favorites again.”

“As if that role is one to covet,” Laura muttered. “We both know it isn't, and we know that you have your own burden when it comes to guilt. Right now, that will drag us all so far down we can't do what needs to be done. That can't happen. Easier said than done, of course, but I don't want us to lose Frank because we're all so caught up in the 'mistake' of letting him go that we can't see what we need to do now.”

“I'm not sure what else we can do,” Joe admitted. “We've got Zollner's property list, and we've got people searching them. Our friends with badges have done some talking to Zollner's people, but that's still as much of a dead end as it was before—they are way too loyal to him to say anything.”

“Only that's not loyalty, is it? Zollner has them all brainwashed into what seems like loyalty but isn't,” Nancy said. “Maybe a deprogrammer could help them overcome it, someone like the doctor that Callie's seeing and we sent Ned to.”

“Well, he's already got a lot on his hands with those two, but...” Joe trailed off, looking at his mother for a moment. “Has anyone actually... talked to Callie?”

Laura frowned. “Not that I know of. I don't think anyone was anxious to tell her that Frank was missing again, even if things are... strained between them.”

“Strained? Try broken,” Joe muttered. He shook his head. “No, I just thought... Callie was with this guy for a long time—well, someone working for him, at least—and now that she's got control of more of her memories, she might be able to tell us about when he had her. That could give us something we didn't have before. Or it might be nothing.”

Nancy shook her head. “I think you're right. Someone should talk to her. I'd say we should talk to Ned, too, but... he doesn't have any memory of being taken or programmed. If he hadn't attacked me, we still wouldn't be sure that he had any programming at all.”

Joe nodded. “Yeah, and we all gotta wonder if we're in the same boat. What's gonna set us off?”

Laura winced. “Nothing, I sincerely hope, though Frank has been worried that you would be a target for them. Everyone knows that you're close and taking out one of you effectively takes out both of you, though in the end, you two usually overcome that and free the other. Still... it is a strategy multiple people have used or at least thought of.”

“We won't know if we have triggers until they're activated,” Nancy said. “For now, we have to operate assuming we don't and hope for the best. The only way to combat what we might be is for us all to stop and lock ourselves away to keep from hurting someone, but that's when Zollner wins because no one would be able to fight him then, no one would be looking for Frank. When we find Frank, we can deal with the possibility we're all programmed. Until then...”

“Yeah.” Joe swallowed. “I'm gonna go see if Callie will talk to me. I really don't think sending you there is a good idea, Nancy. No offense.”

She held up her hands. “None taken. There are other things I can do to help find Frank.”

* * *

“I didn't think any of you wanted to see me.”

Joe winced, shutting the door behind him. Callie's apartment—more like her room—was small, and he could see most of it from right next to the front door. He didn't have anywhere to go to avoid that statement or this conversation, overdue as it was. “It's not that, Callie. It's not... Trust me, none of us blame you. Frank definitely doesn't—he can't stop blaming himself for one whole minute. It's... Okay, so we were never great friends, you and me, but I could have come by and talked to you at least once. I mean, after you got out of the hospital. Well, I think I excused it as that I'd make things worse or set off one of your triggers, but I was just... being myself. I put Frank first. It's what I do.”

Callie forced a smile as she sat down in the chair. That thing was hideous, but then what did Joe really expect from a thinly disguised psych ward? “I bet you barely left his side.”

“Yeah, that would be about right,” Joe agreed. “He is pretty damn sick of me, I know that. He won't say it, but I know he is. He uses every opportunity he can to be alone, even if he really shouldn't be alone.”

Callie nodded. “I know that feeling a little too well. Not that people are hovering. They're not.”

Joe took that as the mental slap it was. He kind of deserved it. “No one wants to risk making it worse. You know that's why Frank stayed away. He is so convinced that he will make you do something else you don't want to do, and he can't live with that.”

She blinked, looking like she might cry, and Joe wanted to kick himself. She rose again, moving from her chair to the window, looking out. “This place is strange. Being here is. I always figured my first apartment would be after a year or so at the dorms in college or maybe moving in with... But now I have a space of my own. In a mental ward.”

Joe looked down at his feet and forced his eyes back to her. “You didn't deserve this, Callie. No one does. What Zollner did to you—No one can say they're sorry enough, no one can make it right. Frank shuts down just trying to think about a way to do that.”

She ran her hands over her arms. “I just wish I didn't scare myself. The things I did, now that I can remember them...”

She closed her eyes, shuddering.

“I'm sorry,” Joe told her. He drew in a breath and let it out. “I was... I actually wanted to talk to you about some of those memories. Not what you did after we found you, but... before. When Zollner had you. I was hoping that—”

“Joe, what happened to Frank?”

“Frank is—”

“Don't you dare say he's fine. I know you wouldn't be here if he was fine,” Callie said. She folded her arms over her chest. “What happened to Frank?”

“Zollner has him again. And we have no idea where he is.”

* * *

“I see you're awake again, Franklin.”

Frank swallowed, gagging on something and turning over to puke. His hands jerked on the cuffs, and he grimaced, trying to scoot away from the mess he'd just gotten on the floor. Whatever that drug Zollner had given him was, it did not agree with his stomach. Or maybe that was just from getting shot in the head. Frank couldn't be certain. He also couldn't feel his feet again, which was a bit of overkill considering the head wound and the cuffs.

Unfortunately, Zollner didn't underestimate him, and Frank actually missed the criminals that did.

“I see you are a master of the obvious,” Frank said, allowing Joe to speak there for a moment. “Do I have to spend the rest of my time here—wherever here is since we're no longer moving and this is not a limo and I don't remember getting from the car to wherever this is—but I assume that was the point of the drugs currently making my stomach dance all its contents up my throat—do I have to spend it next to that? Because I probably will vomit again if I do.”

Zollner crossed over to him, a smile on his face that made Frank feel like puking for a reason completely unrelated to the drugs. “I am tempted to say no, as I am well aware you will try and escape if I release you from the cuffs.”

“I can't feel my feet,” Frank said, though he wished he was lying about that. He had no idea where he was. White walls, no distinguishing signs of warehouse or basement, more like an apartment but so not likely to be one—was he on one of those sets? A room built inside a warehouse or someplace else, one designed to make it _seem_ like he was maybe in an apartment or house somewhere only he wasn't?

Nice of Zollner to screw with his head that way, too.

“That is temporary, of course,” Zollner told him. “When we are back at work, I do want you to be able to feel _everything.”_

Frank almost wished there was enough in his stomach to allow him to puke on Zollner. As it was, all he did was gag. “You're sick.”

“You assume madness is the only reason I act in this manner, don't you?” Zollner looked at him. “Would you believe that I might have once been like you? That I could have been something much different from the man you see now?”

“You could have been different, sure,” Frank said, pulling on the cuffs as he tried to move again. Not much give there, not that he expected it, and without his feet to leverage himself, he doubted he could do much about the cuffs. “You're not, though. You chose to be a psychopath. And a sadist. A murderer. And a—”

“You believe this life is something one chooses?”

“Are we going to have a nature versus nurture debate? Because I am not sure I actually buy the idea that people are just 'born bad,' but that's not a conversation I want to have with you. I don't want to have philosophical debates with my kidnapper, thank you very much.”

Zollner took out his knife, and Frank jerked, managing to hit the wall or whatever it was he was actually chained to in his panic. “There is still time for us to debate philosophies later. After all, I do intend for you to stay here on a more permanent basis this time.”

Frank shook his head. “You know that's not going to work. Either they will find you, I will escape, or I'll just starve myself rather than let this go on.”

“You are so painfully stubborn,” Zollner said, stabbing the blade into Frank's side. “I like to think I was, once, though I truthfully don't remember.”

Frank's eyes went from the blood spilling over the knife to Zollner's face. “Wait... you're saying... you... _you_ were brainwashed like all the people you've brainwashed?”


	22. Wicked Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nancy and Fenton pay a visit to confirm what the FBI's telling them. Frank remains in the hands of a madman. Joe prepares to end his visit with Callie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gave me fits. I wrote a different Nancy scene first, then cut it. I rewrote Frank's scene three times. The only scene that went smoothly was Joe's and it did not go according to plan, though it should make one reader happy.
> 
> Others... not so much.

* * *

“I told you. I won't leave until I see him myself,” Fenton said. Nancy looked over at him. She had never worked closely with him before, for all the friendship between her father and him and the cases she'd been on with the boys—men, they were men now—but she could see the toll this was taking on him already. Worry and fatigue showed on his face, as did his anger and determination. “This guy or someone working for him abducted my son. I want to see him, and I won't leave until I do.”

“He couldn't have kidnapped anyone. Couldn't even have arranged it. He's had no visitors, been in isolation. No communications of any kind.”

Fenton shook his head. “You won't convince me of that. Not when that bastard left a taunting message in my son's blood. You get me in to see him, or so help me, I will have all of you arrested for collusion—accessories to kidnapping _and_ murder.”

Nancy tried not to wince. She didn't want to believe that Frank was dead. He had survived Zollner before, and he had to do it again until they could find him.

“Come with me,” the agent said, shaking his head. He led them back through the gates, deeper into the prison. “When you get there, you'll understand why I think someone must be playing a prank on you. It's a misdirect. It has to be. Someone else has your son.”

“Frank said someone called him claiming to be Zollner not long before he disappeared,” Nancy said. “Add that in to what he's done to other people connected to Frank—Callie Shaw and Ned Nickerson—all from behind bars—and it's very hard to believe it was anyone else but Zollner.”

The agent stopped at a door. He undid the lock and opened the door, waving them inside.

“Ah, Fenton,” the man inside said, rising from his bunk. “It's good to see you. How long has it been? Oh, yes, almost a year now. Tell me, how is Joseph?”

“Joe's fine,” Fenton almost spat, glaring at the other man. “Though I would have thought you'd be asking about Frank.”

“Why should I ask how Franklin is?” Zollner asked, amused. He smiled. “I know how precious Franklin is. I have him, don't I? I admit, he is very unhappy at the moment, but he is alive, and that should be some consolation for you. He remains resistant to my efforts, which should also please you, though I believe we both know how this will end. I _will_ win. Your son is mine.”

Fenton lunged for Zollner, slamming him into the wall with plenty of force. It was like watching Joe react—and Nancy was glad that he wasn't here. She'd only seen pictures of the guy, but the agent was right—he looked like Zollner. She didn't know if it was just the words, but Fenton had definitely reacted to this guy.

The agent and two prison guards pulled Fenton off, even as Zollner laughed. He sat back smugly on his bunk.

“So much like your other son. A shame, since I heard Franklin got his brains from you.”

“You will pay for everything you've done to my family, and if you hurt my son—”

“If? You amuse me. Pain is a part of the process, but your son is strong,” Zollner said. “He has surpassed expectations, lasting as long as he has. That just makes him more ideal for all I've planned for him. Perfect, even.”

“I'll kill you,” Fenton swore, and Nancy put a hand on his arm.

“This is what he wants. He's just playing with you. We know he doesn't have Frank here.”

“Ah, Miss Drew,” Zollner said, turning his attention to her. “So glad to finally meet you. Of all of the connections young Franklin has made over the years, you were the one that interested me the most. Between his network and yours... the things I could do. The things I _will_ do... Rest assured, your pathetic Ned is just the start.”

Nancy almost lunged for him herself. “Ned is not—”

“Not nearly as useful as Frank, and I did consider just having him killed, but seeing what harming Miss Shaw did toward Franklin's eventual capitulation was very informative... and helped shaped my plans. A pity it was so rushed. Nickerson really failed to live up to his potential in so many ways.”

“You're lying.”

“Am I?”

* * *

“Morning, Franklin.”

Frank shuddered, twisting in the cuffs. He knew they weren't any looser than the last time he'd tried, but he didn't know when that was. Why was Zollner saying morning? How long had actually passed since their last conversation? And... why didn't he remember it? He winced, trying to think back. He remembered asking a question, but he couldn't summon up the answer. Zollner must have given it. Talking, taunting, that was what he did. He liked the sound of his own voice far more than he should, but it was also a large part of how his manipulation worked, part of the brainwashing and mind games.

As were the drugs. “What did you give me this time?”

“What, you think I would drug you?” Zollner asked, sounding amused. “Where is the trust?”

“Trust?” Frank snorted. “I can trust that you're doing everything you can to break my mind. That means physical torture, mental abuse, drugs, things that distort my sense of time and reality, even...”

“Even what?” Zollner asked, leaning in close to him. He ran a finger along the scar along Frank's hip, smiling as he did. “I do have many tricks at my disposal, it is true. So many proven methods to choose from, and I can play with them all—with you. I do so enjoy having a worthwhile subject. The last few were painfully disappointing.”

“You mean Callie and Ned?”

“Yes. Though the girl surprised me. Her training took very well. She executed orders to perfection. The man... he couldn't even manage a good attempt on Miss Drew. Very unfortunate. He seems a waste. I may still have uses for her, though.”

“No,” Frank said. He shook his head. “Leave Callie alone. You've hurt her enough. You and your sick games.”

Zollner used his knife, cutting open the scar with one quick, brutal swipe. Frank hissed in pain, making it worse as he jerked on the cuffs. “I don't know why you insist on calling them games. I am not playing any sort of game. This is a long process, and arguably, you are not worth it, but I have always believed you were.”

“You're the only one,” Frank said. He could feel blood moving down his leg. “I don't see why you'd do all this to me or to anyone I know. It can't possibly get you what you want. It's some stupid diversion or trick. That's all.”

“You don't understand it at all, do you? I suppose we shall have to revisit the conversation we had last time—I thought I was very clear then.”

“You're lying. If you expected me to believe you or anything you said, you shouldn't have drugged me. It's just another trick.” Frank adjusted his position, trying to help manage the wound on his leg. “Everything to you is—”

“Do you want to call it a game again?” Zollner laughed. “Oh, please, do. I can give you a matching scar on the other side. Or I can amuse myself in another way. Which will it be? I know I have my favorites... And you hate them all.”

Frank swallowed, almost certain he knew which technique was Zollner's favorite and not wanting any part of that. “Why are you doing this?”

“I told you already.”

“And then made me forget,” Frank said. “You bastard. If you're not playing games—”

“I fully intend to break your mind and remake it. You know this. All that you have endured so far, all that I will continue to do... those are all just a part of making you what you must become. Because you are mine, Franklin. You will do what I want.”

“I won't,” Frank insisted, though he wasn't sure he believed that anymore.

* * *

Callie sat back down in her chair, pulling her knees up to her chest as she did. Joe didn't know what to do or say—that was another reason he hadn't been around to say much of anything to Callie. He didn't know what to do for her. He had barely been able to help Frank, and he knew his brother infinitely better than he did her.

“I didn't want to—”

“To say anything?” Callie finished, not lifting her head. “Of course not. You could have set me off again—and what business of mine is it if Frank's missing, right? We're not together anymore, can't ever be what we were. I tried to kill him. You must hate me for that.”

“Actually,” Joe told her. “I don't. I know that's hard to believe, but so was that you would turn on Frank and try to kill him. We might not have gotten along, not after Iola, but... you and Frank... I know you cared about him. That I never doubted. I didn't like you much, and I figured you hated me, but that wasn't what mattered.”

She shook her head. “I don't think I know anything that can help you find Frank. If I did, I'd tell you. I don't... Doctor Albright has been working with me, but he warned me some of the memories couldn't be trusted—it's not like I came back knowing that I... that I had been turned into a killer.”

Joe swallowed. He had wondered about that, but Ned had seemed clueless as well, not having any idea that existed in him and trying to deny it at the same time. “Anything you know about where they took you or what they did might be useful. I don't know. The game Zollner plays with Frank is different, but we've already searched most of Zollner's properties and found nothing. I just thought... Maybe where we found you was where we were meant to find you...”

“So where I really was... Is where Frank is now,” Callie finished. She lifted her head, looking out at the window. Her voice took on that creepy, distant tone that kind of scared Joe. “It was... a room. All white... Freezing. They left me in there for days... without... anything.”

Joe tried not to react. He knew that they'd tortured her, and that was basic stuff—temperature extremes, lack of food and water—but it was still difficult to hear. “Do you remember anything else about the room?”

“No.”

Joe nodded. He'd hoped for a lot more, but that was wishful thinking. He was hoping for the answer, and he was desperate enough to ask anyone, to look for the smallest clue or hope. “It's okay, Callie. I know you did what you could. It was a long shot anyway.”

She rose, going into the small kitchen area. She picked up the tea kettle and took it to the sink, starting to fill it. “I wish I had more. I don't want anything to happen to Frank.”

Joe bit back a few stupid remarks—that she'd been the one to hurt him and that it was too late. Zollner hadn't wasted any time starting in on Frank last time. His brother had been covered in cuts and bruises. The guy hadn't used a specific method on Frank, not like the temperature one that Callie'd endured. Besides, Frank's blood had been used to create that message at Haggard's farm.

He went over to the kitchen, watching Callie work on the tea. “We are going to find Frank.”

Callie nodded, turning on the stove. “I hope you do.”

Joe sighed. “I'd better go. I know it's not right, asking you those questions, dragging it all up for you, and then just taking off like this, but I have to get back. I need to keep working on some way of finding my brother.”

“I know. Frank comes first.”

Joe almost laughed. “Well, we're the Hardy brothers. Can't have one of us without the other, can you? Pairs, partners, whatever you want to call it... Frank and I are it, and no one could ever come between that, though a few have tried.”

“You thought I was one of them.”

Joe snorted. “Come on, Callie, don't do this. You don't want to pick a fight with me now. I know you deserve better than all this, and I would stay if Frank wasn't out there and—”

Her hand moved faster than he realized, and a sharp pain stabbed through his side. He stared at her, not believing what she'd just done. “Frank was your trigger. You... were getting help. I don't...”

“You said it yourself,” she told him in a voice that sounded _nothing_ like Callie and told Joe that her programming was still active, “nothing comes between you and Frank.”

Joe backed away, hand over the cut in his side. She hadn't made a second move yet, and he could stop her. He had to. “Callie, I don't want to hurt you—”

“Separating you from Frank is the only answer. The only way. You have to die.”


	23. Understood Too Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nancy speaks to her father. Joe finishes his conversation with Callie. Frank gets the complete story from Zollner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up reusing bits I cut from the last chapter where I could. I'm still not pleased with them. Technically, the middle part has the cliffhanger, but since Zollner was so forthcoming... that got to be the end of the chapter.
> 
> I don't know how to feel about this part... Between the night I had last night and today, I wasn't sure I'd get anything written at all, but maybe it's not as horrible as it seems.

* * *

“Nancy, your father is here.”

She looked up from studying her knees. She hadn't been good for much since returning from the prison. She couldn't get Zollner's words out of her head. She didn't even know that he was Zollner, but that didn't make his words any easier to shut out. She could see why he'd been so good at tormenting Frank. Even just the way he spoke... She shuddered.

“Nancy?” Carson asked, coming into the room. “I thought I should give you some updates—that is, if you're feeling up to it.”

She nodded, lowering her legs. She needed to figure out her next step, shake off that visit to the prison, and start making progress again. She would have a better idea what to do after she and her father talked.

“I think Ned's first session with Albright went well,” Carson said, taking a seat in the other chair. The Hardys were kind, letting her use this room to sort herself out and now to have this talk, but she didn't know where she'd end up after it was over. “Though I didn't sit in on it. The doctor seemed to think he could help, and Ned wasn't quite as... morose as he was on our trip here. It's too soon to be sure, but I think the therapy could work.”

Nancy forced a smile. “Thank you, Dad. I appreciate everything you've done. I don't know how we would have been able to do this without you. I've been so worried. Ned... If he had hurt anyone... He'd never forgive himself, and I'd never forgive _myself._ I just...”

“I know,” Carson told her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “With Ned in the doctor's hands, all we can do is wait and see. You said he'd been able to help Callie, didn't you?”

Nancy nodded. “That's what Joe says. What Frank said. I haven't seen her myself. I don't believe that would be a good idea, actually. Ned was triggered by Frank's appearance, and while there is nothing there... there once might have been, and I'm sure Callie had to feel the same resentment and jealousy that Ned did.”

Carson gave her a long look. Nancy turned away in shame, going to the window. A part of her hoped that Joe would come back from talking to Callie before she had to finish her explanation.

“I know I wasn't as committed to my relationship with Ned as I should have been. I see it now, with such blinding clarity... It was easy and comfortable with Ned. He was there, he let me come and go as I wanted, and that meant I always had him to come back to—even if I shouldn't, if I didn't deserve it. And the worst part is... I realized it after someone had already done this to him—because of me. My friendship—if you can even call it that since I wasn't there for Frank at all after he was taken or Callie was—with Frank... it lead to all this.”

“Are you blaming yourself or Frank Hardy?” Carson asked. “I'm not really sure.”

“I don't blame Frank,” Nancy protested, turning around to face her father again. “He didn't ask for any of this. He may have investigated something he maybe shouldn't have, but that doesn't mean he asked to be kidnapped or that he wanted anything to happen to Callie. No one could have known that Zollner would fixate on him like this—we still don't know why he did. And now he has Frank again and...”

“And?”

Nancy went back to the window. She needed to get Zollner's words out of her head, but even this conversation wasn't enough to make that happen. “Joe has been gone for too long. I don't like this.”

“You said he went to interview Callie,” her father reminded her. “It might take a long time to sort through her memories to find any information that might help.”

Nancy nodded, but that didn't comfort her much. “I just feel like there's something wrong... It doesn't help that I have nothing to do. With everyone we know pitching in, searching all of Zollner's holdings... Almost all of that is already done, at least the properties we know about. I don't see how Zollner could have gotten Frank out of the country already, but then I don't know how he could have gotten Frank off Haggard's farm as quickly as he did. Frank could be anywhere. We don't know where to look. And I have nothing to contribute—what I saw in that maze was just one man in a leather coat. No one knows who he is. We haven't been able to identify him or connect him definitively to Zollner—who is supposedly still in prison.”

Carson frowned. “I thought you and Fenton went there today. Don't you know?”

Nancy shivered. “We were there. The trouble is... None of us are sure. I didn't meet that man before, but he looked like the pictures. And he talked like... He said so many things about Frank and about Ned... about me...”

“This is what's really upsetting you, isn't it?” Carson asked as he pulled her close. “What that man said to you?”

Though she wanted comfort desperately, Nancy pulled out of her father's embrace. “I can't. I have to find Joe. I think if I could just put a few more of the pieces together, I'd understand—I could make it fit and—”

“Nancy—”

“Zollner said Ned failed to live up to his potential,” Nancy said, trying to contain her fear. “He didn't say that about Callie. And that's where Joe is now.”

“Don't you think you might be overreacting?”

“With Zollner? There is no such thing.”

* * *

“Callie, snap out of it,” Joe said, backing away and looking for something he could use to end this without hurting her too much. He didn't want to fight her. She wasn't in control, and he knew that even when they'd argued and she'd blamed him for Iola's death, she didn't want him hurt. She didn't want him dead. That wasn't her. That was Zollner. He was doing it because it would give him that piece he needed—if Frank lost Joe now, in the middle of this torture, then Zollner would get what he wanted.

Frank's mind would break. They all knew that. Joe didn't like knowing that he was just a pawn to manipulate his brother, that his death was just a means of control.

Joe wouldn't let that happen. One cut wasn't a death sentence—though if anything happened to Callie now, it wouldn't help matters, either. “This isn't you.”

“This... is all there is left,” Callie said, moving toward him. “You think it isn't, but it is. Callie Shaw is gone. You will be, too.”

“One thing I have to say for your brainwasher, he's good at demented threats,” Joe muttered. He knew antagonizing her wasn't going to help, but it was _Callie._ Even if he might have been tempted in the past to smack her—or worse, she had made him really mad before—he couldn't do it now. She'd stabbed him, so it should be easy.

It wasn't. Why did he have to be a gentleman now?

One more chance. He couldn't delay it any longer than that. “Just put the knife down. I know you don't actually want to hurt me. Or let him use you. He's just doing this to get to Frank, and you wouldn't let anyone do that to him. You know that.”

She lunged for him with the knife, scraping his side when he dodged her, grabbing her wrist. He twisted it, trying to get the knife out of her hand. The new wound stung, but he had her. She elbowed him right where she'd stabbed him the first time, and Joe swore, loudly, losing his grip on her as she turned, facing him and jabbing the blade into his stomach.

He shoved her off, knocking her into the cupboard. She hit with a crack that made him grimace, but he knew she wasn't going to stop just because he wanted her to. There was no persuading her. No stopping her with words or her old emotional ties.

“Sorry, Frank,” he said. He pulled himself up to a seat and looked at Callie. He really hoped she wasn't going to move again. He didn't want to hit her a second time, but he knew he didn't have much choice. If she got up again, then he would have to make sure she stayed down.

Joe put his hand on his stomach, blood flowing through his fingers. He grimaced. That one was bad. He could bleed out from it if he couldn't get it stopped. He grabbed the counter and dragged himself over to the other drawer. If Callie had a dish towel, he might be able to get some pressure on the wound, something to soak up the blood.

He couldn't die. Not now. Zollner would use that against Frank, and Joe still had to find him. This wasn't over. He was going to get his brother back.

Only... he might have lost too much blood already. He wasn't sure, but it was pretty dark in here.

* * *

“What are you thinking, Franklin?” Zollner asked, making Frank shudder as he combed his fingers through Frank's hair. This guy was sick, and he really was willing to do anything to mess with Frank's head. He just wanted it to stop, and that was a dangerous feeling to have. If he gave into that, he would hand himself over to Zollner.

“I was thinking... I hate you,” Frank told him, wishing he could get his hands free, that he could stop at least part of this.

“Anything else?”

Frank nodded. “That I am sick and tired of not knowing why you're doing this. You keep saying you have this plan for me, but why? Why did you do this? What is wrong with you? Joe had a theory that I really didn't like, but I don't know that I put anything past you at this point. What is it that I did or didn't do or... I'm not worth all this. I know that. So why are you doing it?”

Zollner studied him, one hand still in Frank's hair as the other went for the knife again. He put the tip of the knife blade against Frank's skin, letting it dance on the surface. “Aren't you? You found me from a crime that most people considered a joke and that I had carefully distanced myself from, and while it amused me that some federal idiot had gotten that close, he was easily removed. I thought the whole business was done then, but imagine my surprise when I learned he was not the one who connected it at all. You were, and what a prize you are.”

“I'm not, though,” Frank insisted, pulling his head out of Zollner's reach. “I don't buy it. One person isn't worth all of this.”

“You are more than just one person. It's all that you are and all that you bring with you. Your mind. Your talents. Your connections...” Zollner let the knife caress Frank's cheek. “You are not only perfect for taking over my empire, you have given me so many tools to expand it.”

“I didn't give you anything,” Frank said. “I would _never_ give you anything.”

Zollner laughed. “What about Callie? And Ned? Think of all the others you know and how I can use them. Your brother and Miss Drew... those are pieces I look forward to using the most—aside from you, of course.”

Frank stared at him. “You... can't. You won't be able to control that many people—”

“You will. You already do,” Zollner said, patting Frank on the cheek. “Think of how many people are looking for you right now. How many friends do you have, Franklin? How many connections to law enforcement? All of that just waiting to be exploited...”

“You can't.”

“Not yet, perhaps,” Zollner agreed, “but with you... that will change. You might not be the charmer that your brother is, but you nevertheless make plenty of friends and inspire a great deal of loyalty. Nothing is quite on the same scale as the relationship you have with your brother—”

“Don't twist that. Don't you dare,” Frank said, yanking on the cuffs again. His wrists were raw, but he thought all the tugging and pulling on chain connecting him to the wall had to be doing something to it. If it was weakened enough, he might actually get free. That was what he needed. “Joe and I—”

“Are an unrivaled team,” Zollner said. “I've only seen its equal one other time. That kind of loyalty is rare. As is your unbreakable bond. It suits you. And me. I have been looking forward to using it. You see, Franklin, when I have control of you, I have control of you both.”

“No,” Frank said, fighting the pain as Zollner cut into his shoulder. So much for attempting more with the cuffs. That wound would keep him from moving his arm. “It won't happen. I'll die before I give in to you, and Joe is the same way. He won't ever submit to you.”

“Do you think I worked all this time and did nothing to him? You keep assuming I never had any way of reaching your brother, but you know that is not true. I have plenty. And even if I didn't... I have others who can fill that role.”

“What did you do?”

“Did you honestly think that you were the only one Miss Shaw might seek to kill?”

Frank shook his head, trying to move so that he could get a good hit in on Zollner. If he could get one kick in, even a bad one, he would feel better. Zollner kept him so drugged he could barely feel his lower half—only Frank could still feel the pain, just not move very well. “If you want Joe, you wouldn't risk Callie attacking him. You...”

“I what? Do share your latest revelation. I can see in your face you figured something out. That look is ever so appealing. It is a wonder more people don't fall for you while you are in the thrall of a mystery.”

“You are so... twisted.”

“I find it interesting you are so revolted by my admiration for your mind. I assure you, were you not so quick-witted, I would never have spared you a second look.”

“Lucky me.”

“Tell me what you figured out just then. I want to know. What piece of the puzzle did you find?”

Frank closed his eyes, not wanting to see Zollner gloat. He would, too, once Frank said it. “You said you'd seen the connection between brothers equaled only once before... in your brother and you, right? Only you don't have a brother. Zollner has no siblings.”

“Zollner is the identity created for me by my predecessor, though,” Zollner said, patting Frank on the cheek and making him look at him. Smug, gloating, Zollner was enjoying this. “Yes, I see it. There in your eyes. The understanding as that last piece falls into place.”

“You have a twin,” Frank said, sickened by that fact even as it should have been a relief. “An equal. Only that would have allowed you to do all this.”

“Yes, it was quite difficult to decide which of us would have to go away for a while to pacify your pathetic agents, but the devastation that ruse worked on your mind was worth every minute spent in that forsaken prison.” Zollner smiled. “And soon, dear Franklin, my brother will be coming home.”

“No.”

“Yes. And when he gets here, we will finish what we started with you.”


	24. The Third Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nancy and Fenton find Joe. Everyone continues to look for Frank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost wasn't going to include anything from Frank in this chapter, just to make people worry. Then my planned ending failed to materialize, so I did this instead.

* * *

“Joe?”

“Ooh, you really are pretty.”

Nancy shook her head, relieved to hear Joe's voice but not sure she could afford to allow that relief to do much. He was a mess, and she was afraid if she'd taken any longer to get one of the other Hardys to get her here, he might have bled out. At least Fenton had taken her fear seriously, leaving as soon as she voiced her opinion that it had taken too long for Joe to get back. She figured he didn't want to take any chances with his other son, and he was right not to.

“Joe,” Fenton said, kneeling next to him. “What the hell happened?”

Joe groaned. “Callie... She snapped again. Tried to talk her down. Should have just kicked her.”

“These are going to need stitches at the very least,” Nancy said. She turned to Fenton. “I know it's a lot to ask right now, but can you take a look at Callie? If Joe set her off, I think I'd do worse, judging by how Ned reacted to Frank.”

Fenton frowned slightly, but he moved over to Callie's side, looking her over.

“Do we know anything about... Frank?” Joe asked. “Callie... didn't know much. She remembered a white room and being tortured with temperature extremes... starvation, but nothing else. I don't know if... She was fine right up until I was getting ready to go... Then she seemed angry about me and Frank being close... And she stabbed me.”

“We went to see Zollner in the prison,” Fenton told him. Joe stared at his father. “I don't know. It looked like him. Sounded like him. He was the same smug bastard we found hurting Frank. He even sat there and told me that he had Frank and was working on breaking him. I lost it.”

“It's hard not to,” Nancy said. “When he started on Ned, I almost did the same.”

“But he didn't say anything about Frank... where he was...”

“No, Joe, he didn't give even so much as a hint of where Frank was, not that I expected him to,” Fenton told his son. “He's not interested in letting us find Frank this time. We won't get anything from him until he's ready.”

“And when's that? When Frank is dead?” Joe demanded, trying to get up.

“I don't think Zollner wants Frank dead,” Nancy said. That wasn't much of a consolation for any of them, but it was something. They had time yet to find Frank. How much trauma he would have endured by then was difficult to think about, but he wasn't dead, and that was what they had to cling to, that small bit of hope.

“We don't actually know _what_ Zollner wants from him.”

Joe sighed. “All this... for nothing.”

“It would be a complete waste if you ended up dead, but fortunately for you, we called your ride ahead of time,” Fenton said. “I would much rather be dealing with fines and complaints for a false alarm, though.”

“Sorry, Dad. I thought... I... She was supposed to be cured, you know?”

Nancy swallowed. “Wait. What about—we don't think that Albright is involved with Zollner, do we? Because if he missed something with Callie—”

“And we just gave him Ned...”

Fenton groaned.

* * *

“How are you feeling?”

Joe almost snorted. What kind of a question was that? “Oh, I'm just _dandy._ Frank's in the hands of a psychopath, and I am stuck here. They won't let me out of this damn bed.”

Nancy sighed, taking the seat next to the bed. “You were stabbed three times. You almost bled out. You need to be here, and as much as none of us really wants to face it, there isn't a lot we can do about Frank being missing. We can start searching the properties again, but that won't change anything. My dad went back to talk to Ned and we're looking for another doctor to back up Albright's assessments of him and Callie...”

“When was the last time you slept, Nancy?”

She frowned, rubbing her head. Joe didn't think she knew for sure. “Cat nap in the car driving back? Maybe?”

Joe closed his eyes. He felt about as tired as she did, if not more so because of all the drugs in his system. He was just lucky no one stabbed him near a rib or a lung. The one in his gut was bad enough, but he was all stitched up now. Good to go. “I got the nap in the ambulance. And here. It's not the same, though. Frank would be trying to get one of us to rest about now. He'd have a whole list of logical reasons and we'd cave just to shut him up.”

Nancy smiled. “Sounds about right. We both could use the rest, though, I can't deny that. I can't hardly think. I keep trying to find something else we can do to find Frank, and I've come up with exactly nothing. My one lead—leather jacket man—hasn't done anything—we still don't have any information on him. Facial recognition didn't peg him, not from any of the agencies I've been able to ask. Either they're lying or he doesn't exist.”

“You think maybe he's one of our bought identities? The ones from the list? Or maybe not that list but another list? You _did_ see him. You must have. He tried to kill you.”

Nancy leaned back in the chair. “I did. Or... I thought I did. I don't remember Ned rescuing me, which... I don't want to say it or think it or believe it, but what if...”

“If it was Ned? That's a lot for you to hallucinate, isn't it? You saw leather jacket kill gray suit, right? And then leather jacket tried to kill you. We have gray suit, don't we? I mean, he's a body in a morgue, but we still have him, don't we?”

Nancy nodded. “I don't think they had a name for him yet, but that could have changed since you've been in here.”

“Then we need to get the files, start finding more of those names and possible connections to Zollner. It was our only lead before Frank got taken—we have to go back to it now,” Joe said. He still didn't even know that there was anything to find, but with his brother gone, there wasn't much else he could do. “It feels pointless, though.”

“Maybe not,” Nancy said. “This was the lead that got Frank out of the house again, and it might mean a whole lot more than we've given credit to—think about it, Joe. Haggard might have been part of them cleaning up their operation. If he was, that means... your father looking into the names spooked Zollner or someone else into pulling the plug. And if we knew who the man in the gray suit was, maybe we'd know who leather jacket was. Either thing could make it possible for us to find more of the organization—maybe where Frank is being held...”

“Dad has the files. He'll get them for you if you ask.”

“I will. You just stay put,” Nancy said, adding a little teasing to the end of her words. Joe rolled his eyes, wishing he had something to throw at her.

* * *

“Anything yet?”

“This would go a lot faster if I wasn't in a hospital bed,” Joe said, and his father gave him a look. He grunted, flipping through more files. Nancy had the laptop, since Joe's attempt to use it had put a brick right on the worst of his wounds and almost torn through his stitches. She didn't know that it was much use, though. Her eyes kept blurring on the screen.

“You're not leaving,” Fenton told him, and Joe glared at his father. “You almost got yourself killed earlier. I know you want to find Frank, but if you die in the process, you won't save him. He needed you before, and he will need you again, even more than he did last time.”

Joe sighed. “I just wish there was an easier, faster way to do this. We can't do much with just the files, and if I can't get out of here...”

“We could always release the Zollner we have in prison and see where he goes,” Nancy suggested halfheartedly. It wasn't even a good joke, but admittedly, the imposter or whatever he was might have some knowledge of where Frank was, might go back to whoever he was working with, and give them just what they needed. That was unlikely at best. He'd just escape them and leave everything and everyone worse off than before.

Joe winced. “I almost would—except he's got to have someone feeding him information, right? Whoever that is would just help him evade us.”

“The guards have been investigated and rotated out,” Fenton reminded him. “Even Agent Carter has been under surveillance. We can't find any sign of how Zollner was communicating with the outside world.”

“He spoke like he had, though,” Nancy said, running her fingers through her hair. “Admittedly, it could have been an act, but he _knew_ Frank was missing. He knew we knew about Ned's programming. He must have some way of getting word from outside.”

Joe shifted on the bed. “Well, we got the guards replaced every time we suspected he'd made contact outside of the prison. Or did we just take Carter's word for that? Because if he was the one making all the arrangements, he's the one who's working for Zollner. He might not even know that he is, but that doesn't change anything. He did this.”

“It's a little quick to condemn him, even if he is the most likely source,” Nancy said. Fenton nodded at her words. “If Zollner was able to plan any of this in advance, then he would have created a system of contacting the outside world, and he would have hidden it beneath the same layers he hid everything else. Think about it—the dummy corporations and multiple aliases that he hid behind, the way he used unrelated students to start the thefts at the schools that first caught Frank's interest... So many layers of subterfuge for such a simple crime.... If he was setting up things in the prison—”

Fenton rose. “If he had any of it planned, then he had multiple routes of contact in and out of the building. He'd have made sure that he wasn't trusting one single guard or one agent. He'd use many of them, maybe only for one mission, one exchange of information...”

“Wait,” Nancy began, frowning. “What ever happened with Zollner's lawyer?”

* * *

“There you are. You're late.”

Frank lifted his head at the sound of voices, frowning. One of them he knew, since he could live lifetimes and never forget the sound of Zollner's voice, but the other... it was familiar and yet not. He must know it from somewhere, but it was difficult to place.

“I know. There were developments.”

“Developments? Why not call them what they are?” Zollner demanded, annoyed. “Delays. Tell me, what is it this time?”

Frank twisted, biting his lip when the cuff dug into his raw skin, but he had to get a better look at the other man. His survival could depend on knowing who it was.

“It seems Miss Shaw put Joseph in the hospital.”

“How badly was he injured?”

“One would might have been fatal if not for Miss Drew's intervention,” the other man answered, and Frank yanked on his cuffs, trying to get his feet to move so that maybe he could leverage something to get the part on the wall loose. His side exploded with pain, and he felt blood on his leg again. Damn, he'd torn open some of the wounds.

“Franklin, do calm yourself,” Zollner said. “While we are all in agreement that pain is necessary to this process, do you honestly believe I have any intention of letting your brother die? He is meant to be your most loyal companion.”

Frank grunted, leaning back against the wall. “Joe is not my servant. He'd never be that.”

“I never said he was.” Zollner knelt next to Frank. “Though it is interesting that you are already awake. Apparently you are developing a resistance to this particular drug, and that cannot continue. I will have to change the dose.”

“Leave me alone.”

“That wound on his leg looks infected,” the other man observed. “I thought the idea was to convert his mind, not to kill him.”

“Are we speaking metaphorically or literally?” Zollner asked, and the other man laughed. Frank watched their interaction with a growing sense of unease. He didn't doubt that Zollner had a twin, the one that had fooled everyone and taken the role in prison, but the way these two acted, the near familiarity of the voice...

“Damn it. There's three of you, isn't there?”


	25. Twists and Turns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nancy, Joe, and Fenton look into Zollner's lawyer. Frank now has two psychopaths to deal with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the thought earlier that as much as I have been creating twists and enjoying them... I kept making it more and more difficult to actually end the story... So I decided not to draw out more twists but push some plot ahead, though admittedly, I am bad at it.

* * *

“Refresh my memory,” Fenton said from behind the wheel. “What do we know about this guy?”

“Martin Debries, fifty-eight,” Joe said, and Nancy had to wonder if he was doing it to prove that he was of use on this trip. He'd had a hell of a time convincing his father to let him come, but as much as Nancy didn't want to risk losing _both_ Hardy brothers, she knew trying to keep Joe in the hospital was a lost cause. So did his father. “Made a reputation for himself defending the worst of the worst criminal scum. It was said he didn't turn down a case no matter how horrible the crime was.”

“Which explains Zollner,” Nancy said, making the comment that she knew Joe would have said if he wasn't busy giving them the rundown on Debries.

“Pretty much,” Joe agreed. “That sick freak was only the latest of twisted people Debries has helped get off from crimes ranging from theft to... child pornography. Murder almost seems tame compared to some of the stuff that these people have done.”

“Sounds like he is just as guilty as his clients are,” Nancy said, shaking her head. “What else do we know about him?”

Fenton looked back from the road. “How many times has Debries seen Zollner?”

“In the past year? According to the records—ten times.”

“That seems a little low for someone building a defense, doesn't it?” Nancy asked. “Why would he only see his client less than once a month? Even Zollner being in isolation for most of his year in prison doesn't explain that. Here I was thinking that Debries could have been a part of Zollner's connection to the outside world, but if he never went to the prison...”

“It doesn't sound like he was much of a courier,” Fenton agreed. “In fact... It sounds a lot more like Zollner had no real intention of mounting a defense. He wasn't expecting to have a day in court.”

Joe grimaced. “We're back to him having planned all that and put all of this into motion over a year ago, back before he even took Frank. Are we really giving that freak that much credit? Do we believe that he could and did arrange all this?”

Nancy sighed. “If half of what we suspect is true, then this is far from a short-term operation. It goes back decades at the very least. Some of the identities were in place back before either of us was born. If that's true, then Zollner's type of planning—”

“Isn't even possible. You're acting like he could have put this in place when he was probably younger than us. He wouldn't have those kinds of connections. His organization would have taken those same decades to build,” Joe said. “Something's wrong with that picture. It doesn't add up.”

Nancy nodded. “Well, maybe Debries can give us a few more of the pieces. I feel like we're close, but there's enough missing to where we just end up confusing the issue more. I think we have to have every guard that ever interacted with Zollner checked, but we still don't know if we can trust Albright. With the way Callie reacted—”

“I could just have been another of her triggers,” Joe said, putting a hand over his side. “I mean, Callie and I weren't exactly the best of pals. She... hated me for what I did to Iola right before she died. I hate myself for it, so she wasn't alone in it, but... Sometimes it did feel like we were in competition for Frank's attention, and I think we both resented it.”

“I want to believe that Albright had no part in it,” Nancy told him. “That way... Then it's just an accidental thing, something that we couldn't have known before and not... Not that Albright was actively continuing to program Callie and might have done the same thing to Ned if you hadn't triggered Callie.”

Fenton parked the car in front of a darkened house. “Let's see if Debries has any more of the answers for us.”

* * *

“Triplets? What an amusing notion.”

Frank shook his head. Just because he thought there were three brothers didn't make them all identical. Zollner had implied that the twins went around as some warped version of the same identity, but there was another one, wasn't there? One who stayed in the shadows, carrying out the twins' orders... being their go-between and arranging contact somehow...

“The lawyer?”

Frank's eyes went to the second man, still trying to place him. His way of speaking was very similar to Zollner's, and the way they interacted showed a sense of familiarity, a level of comfort that seemed almost fraternal. Zollner and the other man could just have been friends, but for him to be here, now, he had to be something closer to the level of the twin Frank already knew he had—the one he almost _had_ to have because no one less than an equal could participate in what Zollner was doing, and Frank had seen the man he _thought_ was Zollner taken away and arrested. It could have been something other than twins, but twins _fit_ and Zollner hadn't denied it. He'd said he had a brother.

He might even have two.

“Dead. Not sure why you felt that was necessary as he was only a stalling tactic—”

“He disapproved of my choice,” Zollner said, eyes on Frank with a slight smirk. “I do not enjoy critics at the best of times, but to hear him talk, I was a fool for even thinking of interacting with Franklin. He certainly would not understand my decision to make him the next generation of this endeavor.”

“I do not think even Franklin understands that choice,” the other one observed, and Frank watched them both, trying to understand what this was, why this game had started. Zollner had always worked alone before, always kept his torture of Frank private, just the two of them in this secret hell. This new dimension was as confusing as it was frightening. One twisted freak hurting him and playing mind games was bad enough, but two—no, _three_ —was the stuff of nightmares. “Do you?”

“No,” Frank told him, not sure why he bothered being honest. “There are thousands of people who are power mad and crazy like you. Plenty of people who want the sort of empire you have. Why would you want someone who doesn't want any part of it? Why pick someone who... who...”

“Who is a good guy?” Zollner's friend leaned into Frank's face, smiling. “You have a quaint idea of morality, but in the end, morality isn't what defines us. Everything can be corrupted.”

“As you will be,” Zollner assured Frank. “That, you see, is all part of the process. You have to spend some time as the puppet before you can become the master.”

“No.”

Zollner laughed. “You are so very amusing. So strong, and yet so very close to crumbling. That moment will be delicious, knowing you are at last where you are meant to be... completely mine.”

The words made Frank sick. “I told you before—I will kill you or myself before that happens.”

“He really is perfect,” Zollner's friend said, observing Frank with a smile that made him want to vomit. Why couldn't they just let him go? He didn't want any part of this, and he wouldn't give them what they wanted. He refused. He had to find a way to stop this. He didn't know what he'd do, but there had to be a way.

Frank tilted his head, fighting nausea as he did. “I... know you. I... It's not just the resemblance to Zollner, though that's so much clearer now than when...”

“Than when what, Franklin? What have you figured out this time?”

“You... were my doctor at the hospital,” Frank whispered, shuddering as his eyes closed. “You... You were there after Zollner had me the first time... and after Callie...”

“How sweet of you to finally remember,” the man said, patting Frank's cheek. “Yes. I was there. I made sure you got the right dose of your medication to keep you off-balance and paranoid, even hallucinating. It was so easy to prescribe something I knew would have adverse side effects for you.”

Frank contorted himself, managing to swipe a leg right into the so-called doctor, making him stumble. The infected wound screamed in protest, and Frank had to bite down on his own outcry. He didn't even feel better for doing it.

“That was foolish.”

“What do I care? If I can't get free, you intend to turn my brain into mush, and I won't remember any of this, so none of it matters,” Frank said, though a part of him did think if the wound was infected but he managed to keep the “doctor” from treating it, he might have found his only path toward freedom... if he counted death as freedom.

“I will let you see to punishing Franklin as you see fit,” Zollner said. “I have to make the final arrangements now. It is time for the last part of the plan.”

The doctor nodded, turning back to Frank. “It should be interesting to do this face-to-face. Every other time I've played with you, it was from the shadows. Obscured. You don't even remember most of those times. This one... This you will remember.”

Frank closed his eyes. He would rather they just killed him, but he knew he wasn't that lucky.

* * *

“Well,” Joe said glumly, “that was worth getting out of my hospital bed for, wasn't it?”

He looked down at the body in front of him, tempted to kick it. He wasn't sure why—it wasn't like he thought the guy was faking it. Not that they'd expected Zollner's lawyer to do much or be all that cooperative, but they also hadn't figured on finding his tortured corpse, either. The guy had clearly suffered before he died, his skin full of marks and blood all over the floor.

“I thought we'd be taking him into custody and arguing with him for hours about attorney client privilege,” Nancy said, kneeling next to the body. “I think we'll have to get DNA confirmation, but this guy does look like the pictures of Zollner's lawyer. Then again... Zollner in prison looked like Zollner, and we all believe Zollner has Frank, so...”

“We're all stuck in one giant mind game which doesn't seem to have an end,” Joe muttered, shaking his head. “What does Zollner gain by having his lawyer killed?”

“It's difficult to say,” Fenton began. “If, as we discussed in the car, Zollner never intended to present a defense, he wouldn't have needed him for anything, but this looks a lot like the person who killed Debries wanted him to talk.”

“It could be completely unconnected to Zollner,” Nancy said. She looked at Joe. “Did any of those clients of his specialize in killing like this?”  
“More than one of them was known for being a sadist, but there's no way to be sure if it was any of them, either.” Joe shook his head. “I'd have to look at the files, see if this shares any specific similarities with other deaths. There could be a pattern, but I need more information first.”

“We have to call in the police,” Fenton said, and Joe frowned. “Don't look at me like that—none of us want to end up in jail for this murder, and we also don't want to risk compromising any data or leads we might get from Debries. If he was killed by Zollner or Zollner's people, we might still have some small piece that could help us find Frank again.”

“We can do some looking around, though,” Joe insisted. “We need to make sure no one else is in the house. What if Debries wasn't alone when this happened? What if that person is still alive?”

Nancy looked at him. “That almost sounds plausible, though I think everyone knows better.”

“The police don't, and that's what matters, isn't it?” Joe asked. He grinned. “So let's get to this guy's office, see if he has papers on Zollner or Frank or anyone else we can think of—any of the names on the list we were going to investigate— _anything_ —since the police aren't likely to recognize it for what it is or give it to us—if they even find it.”

“We won't have long.”

“Then let's hurry.”

* * *

“Where to begin...”

Frank thought about making a smart mouthed remark about at the beginning. Or even at the end. He didn't. Though Zollner was a familiar enemy, this one was an unknown variable, and anything he did had to be weighed against his limited options and need for that one remaining escape clause to stay a valid option. He didn't need to bring down all of the man's wrath on him, not when there might be a better way of handling the newcomer.

“Do you go by Zollner, too?”

The other man laughed. “Why would you ask that? You know you didn't meet me under that name. You would never have allowed me to give you anything. No medical care, no medication. You aren't that foolish. What is it you seek to do now?”

Frank wasn't surprised to have the whole gambit fall apart already. It wasn't much of one. “I was just wondering how it felt. Being the lesser one... always in the shadows because you didn't share their face... taking orders and never getting the same kind of respect... Treated like a servant, a glorified errand boy...”

The other man laughed. He sounded a lot like Zollner. “You think I wanted the face? No. I've always preferred where I am. Mock the shadows if you like, but I have found them to be exactly what I need. I can go as I please, unnoticed, reach places others can't, arrange things that seem impossible... If I were so recognizable, you would not have let me be your doctor. I would not have been able to 'assist' Dr. Albright with his cases. I wouldn't have been able to pass important information to where it needed to be or clean up certain messes.”

“Errand boy,” Frank repeated, bracing for the impact that never came. He didn't get hit or cut as he would have expected.

He really wasn't dealing with Zollner.

“I would have lacked the freedom to do as I pleased to your friend,” the doctor said, leaning close to Frank's face. “It would have been so very easy to end Miss Drew's life in that maze...”

Frank stared at him. “That was you?”

“Makes you wonder just what else I might have done, doesn't it?”


	26. Everything Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mind game has changed, and Frank's still trying to make sense of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be confusing. I know that. It was meant to be. All I can say is stick with it. Frank does his best to understand it, which I think will help.
> 
> I didn't plan on this, but I kept thinking about "Sole Survivor" from the 70s show, and I wasn't sure how else to move the plot forward. Frank has all the pieces, but he can't tell anyone, and I couldn't figure out how the rest of them would get any of that inside information Zollner's been doling out slowly. Especially when I end up with twists that kill the most likely source. This way I believe I can fix some of that.
> 
> I admit, this isn't the story I set out to write (I can prove it if I ever were crazy enough to post the original summary of it) and it has gotten away from me with all its twists. I'd like to thank everyone who has read it and stuck with it so far, because it has gotten a little crazy and was not intended to be so... convoluted.

* * *

“Wake up, Franklin. It is time for another lesson.”

Frank lifted his head, looking around with a frown. This didn't make sense. He wasn't in the plain white room anymore. This one looked... like a real bedroom. Bed, dresser, closet, even a window... His hands weren't cuffed.

Something was extremely wrong.

“Up now,” the voice coaxed, and Frank watched as he approached, putting an arm under Frank and helping him sit up. Frank felt woozy, dizziness making him want to lie down and go back to sleep or unconsciousness, wherever he'd just been. He didn't feel right, and he didn't like this. Something was off about everything here. He hadn't woken up at home, free, and even if he had, he'd find it difficult to trust, but he knew this wasn't home.

That voice... not Zollner's, but close enough...

“Don't touch me.”

The other man drew back, and Frank moved back against the headboard again, not sure what he thought it would accomplish. Moving him was some kind of tactical move, keeping him confused and disoriented, unable to cope with the change in his situation—though why?

“I see you've regressed some. Pity. I do hate having to repeat myself.”

Frank looked at him, shaking his head. None of this made sense, and he had to get up, now, make a break for that window, but he knew he'd been drugged. His head was foggy, and his body felt sluggish, unable to respond to any of his commands. He was used to having little control over his legs. They had always made sure that he was kept immobile in more than one way.

They. Like it had been anyone but Zollner up until—wait. Frank had missed the second half of a conversation, one he still didn't remember, and this one could have been there then. Frank wouldn't have remembered it. Zollner wouldn't have wanted him to—he didn't even think he was supposed to know about him now.

“It should come back to you in a few hours, so don't bother with the leg.”

Frank put a hand to his head. Trying to sort all this out was making it ache, and he almost felt like it would explode if he didn't stop thinking. “What are you talking about?”

“The wound on your hip. You always try and reinjure it when we tell you months have passed and you refuse to believe us. It would scar over if you'd stop ripping it open, but you keep making it worse.”

“Months have passed,” Frank repeated, trying to assess that. “How many months?”

“Three and a half, actually.”

“Three months since you abducted me—since Zollner did,” Frank corrected, not sure if he did accept that or not. Time was hard to understand here, since he was drugged and lost consciousness too often to track much of it, and it was difficult to know even without those complications. Waiting could seem to take days when things against a deadline passed like seconds.

“No, Franklin. Three months since your father and brother died.”

* * *

The headline on the screen didn't seem real.

Frank didn't know that he believed it was, but reality was hard for him to define now. He didn't know what day it was, what time of day, where he was, or what was going on outside this room. It, too, was different from the one Zollner had kept him in at first, decorated like an office with a desk and walls lined with bookshelves. A few touches on the keyboard had brought down this screen, projecting the image up on it.

 _Private Investigator and Son Die in Crash,_ the headline read, and underneath it was the added tagline— _Other passenger in critical condition._ The picture showed a mangled wreck that did look like his father's car, and it didn't look like anyone should have survived it—the whole thing was practically crumpled underneath the wheels of a semi-tractor.

“You... lied.”

“About harming your brother? No, Franklin, I did not,” Zollner told him, walking up behind him. “I know how difficult this is for you to accept—”

“I don't trust anything you say,” Frank told him. “Stop pretending you care or that I can believe any of this. It isn't real.”

“Things did not go as planned when I escaped,” Zollner said, and Frank shuddered when he felt the hand touch his shoulder. “This... was not intentional.”

“Get your hand off of me.”

Zollner sighed, moving the offending hand to Frank's cheek. “And we had come so far in our work. You were accepting not only your role but the small signs of affection a mentor might find himself giving when pleased with his pupil's progress.”

“You are not a mentor,” Frank said, feeling sick. “And this new game isn't going to work, either. I don't know what you think you're doing, but I can tell I'm still drugged. That window isn't real, and I know you're not letting me walk around free. No. There's some kind of failsafe—the drug, probably—that will keep me in line, keep me from getting free, because you wouldn't trust me—”

“That is not true,” Zollner said, adding a second hand to Frank's other cheek. “Look at me. I have made you my heir in all senses of the word. I have been explaining the whole empire to you, preparing you for when it is yours. If I thought I couldn't trust you, I wouldn't do that.”

“Which is why I feel drugged right now. Some trust.”

Zollner shook his head. “I'm afraid that is part of the process. You were and still are adversely affected by the death of your brother and your father. It was never my intention to make you separate from Joe—I always intended for him to be involved after you were ready. Unfortunately, you didn't feel ready until after they were dead. I suppose it took that for you to accept that... that no one was going to find you. With them dead and Miss Drew unlikely to come out of her coma... part of your stubbornness died with that loss of hope.”

“No.” Frank moved away from him, going to the window. “I wouldn't. Even if I lost Dad, lost Joe, Nancy... I wouldn't give in to you. Wouldn't become what you wanted—you're lying.”

“Periodically this side of you _does_ resurface, tries to block out what you did for your own survival and return to the past, but it doesn't last. You were under extreme physical, emotional, and mental duress. We were out to break you... and we did.”

Frank looked down at the window. “You nailed it shut.”

Zollner shrugged. “Trust is one thing. Letting you fall out a second story window is another.”

Frank put his hands on his head, rubbing his temples. “I don't believe this. Any of it.”

“That won't change anything,” Zollner told him, still sounding extremely smug, as usual. Frank heard him moving, but he let it happen, wanting Zollner on this side of the desk when he tried to go for the door. “But it will earn you another sedative.”

Frank turned, but not in time to stop the needle from plunging into his arm.

* * *

_“I thought you were the one cautioning me. You were worried that I'd gone too far, was going to kill him,” Zollner observed, almost sounding amused despite the current of anger in his voice. “What exactly is this?”_

_“Making up for lost time,” the other man said, and Frank turned away from him, not wanting to think about what he'd just done or how much it hurt. “You've had him to yourself for days. I had a few hours.”_

_Zollner nodded. “I suppose that is only fair, but if Franklin's body is too weak, he will not withstand what must be done.”_

_“I am the one with the medical degree. Don't you think I know when to stop?”_

_“You should, that is true, but we all have our weaknesses, and your love of killing has always been yours. Sometimes there are other ways,” Zollner told him. “And there are complications. Come. We must talk.”_

_“What did you do?”_

_Zollner did not answer._

Frank woke from the sedative, groggy and sore, unable to move for a while, and keeping himself still because he figured this room had video cameras in it. Even if he'd supposedly broken, he didn't expect anything else from Zollner. That man would be watching. Waiting. Frank would rather have some time without anyone else there to think through this, to keep himself from being drugged again or given other mental prompts.

If, as Zollner suggested, Frank was going to forget all of that and return to being a willing participant, eagerly soaking up his “mentor's” words, it should have happened by now. And it hadn't. He should have woken with no memory of any of that last interlude, just as he had none of anything beyond the second man's arrival.

Frank knew that could have been the night they claimed—the one when the prison break had gone wrong and his family had died. Zollner had left Frank alone with his other brother, off to make final arrangements. That could have been when all that they claimed happened.

He didn't want to believe that. All they offered him was newspapers, and with today's technology, those were easily faked. News broadcasts could also be faked. The internet couldn't be trusted, not that they'd allow Frank free rein on it. He could learn too much, shatter more than the illusion, and find some way to alert others to where he was. He could free himself.

He would not be allowed a computer. Not a phone. Nothing that could get a signal out. He had so many pieces of this puzzle—not all of them, not by any means—but enough to where he could have been some use on the _outside_ of it. He could have told someone that Zollner's identity wasn't real, that he had a twin and another brother—possibly a triplet but if he had shared the face, he'd altered it—and that the organization had been someone else's before this trio took it over. He could tell them who the leather jacket was, that he'd done more than kill Nancy's man in the gray suit—who was the man in the gray suit? Just another part of the organization? Frank didn't have that answer, but if he could tell someone even one more piece of what he did know, they could figure it out. Shut this thing down for good, not just think it was done with the arrest of one man.

“I know you're awake, Franklin.”

“Of course you do.”

“There is no point in being so angry,” Zollner said as he sat down on the edge of the bed. “I learned that many years ago. I could fight against the injustice of losing a life I did not even remember, or I could move on with the one I had. I chose the latter.”

“Don't expect me to make the same choice,” Frank told him. “I haven't forgotten. I don't want any part of what you're offering me. I don't care—you haven't convinced me that they're dead, and even if they were... It wouldn't matter. I won't serve you.”

“You already have.”

Frank looked at him. “You're lying. I didn't—and all of this is so pointless—I will not give you what you want. You should have picked someone else. If you wanted an heir, why not have a child of your own? Bind them by blood as well as your sick methods? You would have guaranteed what you wanted.”

“I could have, perhaps,” Zollner said. “Were we all not incapable of having children.”

Frank closed his eyes. “Don't expect me to have sympathy for you.”

“I know you don't. I am only enlightening you. You assumed there was some other course besides taking in someone like you, and there is not. You fit all the criteria I need and—”

“Only you said you wanted my connections,” Frank reminded him. “You won't be able to use them if I forget who I am—and if I'm not myself, none of it works, none of it matters. This whole thing is impossible and has been all along. Callie's programming worked because she didn't know it was there. Same with Ned. Yours works because you don't remember who you were. Same with your twin. And the other one... Trying to leave enough of me intact to use what I have—had—makes it so that I can't be controlled. You can't do it.”

“I can,” Zollner said. “I have. You don't think that some of your choices were made under my influence? Do you think you didn't do exactly what I wanted after you had your little breakdown?”

“I think your programming has you delusional. You think you can control everything, which isn't true.” Frank shook his head. “I won't cooperate. You know I won't. You can stop with the drugs and trying to disorient me like this. It won't work.”

Zollner sighed, withdrawing a syringe from his pocket. “I see it is time for another visit to the cemetery.”

“Do you really think that a couple of headstones is going to convince me they're all dead?”

“No, but it does tend to put you in the right frame of mind to visit Miss Drew.”


	27. More Confusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank is not the only one who is confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I believe this will clarify some points that the last chapter made... confusing. Granted, it's still confusing, and I did skip some stuff, but I actually thought the parallels were a nice touch as well as the only way this would get written, since I stared at the blank page and procrastinated with other stories long enough to convince me.
> 
> And... the best lies are the ones mixed with truth, right?

* * *

Joe groaned as he opened his eyes, frowning as they took in the room around him. No, he was not back here. He did not need to be here. They were supposed to be out working on the case, doing what they could to find Frank. He wasn't supposed to be here. He was fine.

Unless that last bit had all been a dream while he was in bed, but it couldn't have been. They had gone to that lawyer's house. He remembered going there. He knew they had. He even remembered arguing with Nancy over the files—he'd wanted to take them since they didn't have time to make copies, and Nancy had said all he was doing was incriminating himself.

No, that was all real. Joe knew it was.

He started to move, but he couldn't even get himself to sit up. His whole body ached, except for the part that was so numb that he couldn't even feel it. He didn't understand. Something was wrong here. He shouldn't be in the hospital. He had to get out of here.

“Ugh,” he muttered, making another attempt to rise. “Whatever bus hit me is going to be sorry. Especially if I find out someone just drugged me to make me sit still while they went off investigating. I'm going to—Bess?”

She came closer to the bed, no smile on her face, just worry, and Joe knew Bess could usually find a reason to smile through the worst of things. Her expression felt more like a kick to his already wounded gut. He wished she wasn't so far away. He'd take her hand and reassure her, though he wasn't sure _what_ he needed to reassure her about.

“You're awake,” she said, twisting her hands together. “That's a good thing. Everyone was so worried... They thought...”

“I'm fine,” Joe insisted, grabbing his bed rail to help himself up to where he could sit. He had to bite back a yelp of pain and plenty of words he tried not to use in front of the ladies. “Relatively speaking, I guess. I don't need to be in the hospital. I've got to get out of here and back out to—”

“Joe,” Bess said, her voice still on the scary side because of its somber tone, “they were afraid you wouldn't make it. That the car accident on top of the injuries you already had... that it would kill you...”

He winced. No wonder she was so upset. He reached for her hand, ignoring the pain to do it. He caught hers and squeezed it. “It's okay, Bess. I didn't die. I'm here. I'm okay. I'm missing a couple pieces here, but I'm still alive. I don't—what car accident?”

She found a dot on his hospital gown to stare at instead of looking at him, not able to, apparently. She shifted her feet and closed her eyes. “I don't know everything.”

“Tell me what you do know,” Joe coaxed. “I don't... I feel like someone kicked the crap out of me, but that's all I've got. Last I remember, we were at Debries' house, and we were looking through his office for some files, for anything we could find to pin something on him or locate Zollner. Nancy and I got into a dumb argument—I think we were both tired and frustrated and being thwarted at every turn was really getting to us. The lawyer was the best lead we had, and he was not only dead but not much of a lead. I said a few things I shouldn't have...”

Bess' eyes lifted from the dot and met his face. “What do you mean? What things?”

Joe sighed. That definitely was not his proudest moment. He'd done worse—those minutes right before Iola died, for instance—but he still wasn't happy with his behavior in that office.

_“Joe,” Nancy said, putting her hand on his arm. “I think you may be grasping at straws that were never here to begin with. I know we were hoping for so much more from Debries, but you already checked his files on Zollner. There's nothing here.”_

_“There's something.” Joe wasn't giving up. There had to be something here. “He hid it. He'd have to hide it. It has to be—”_

_“If he never intended his lawyer to put up any kind of real defense for him, there wouldn't be. And what we know of Zollner, he's too much of a control freak to allow his lawyer to know anything of use without being brainwashed into a zombie. If Debries knew anything, he took it with him when he died. Trying to find a conspiracy in these files is pointless. All you're going to do is get yourself arrested for tampering with evidence—or even murder, if you're not careful.”_

_“I didn't touch Debries, and you gave up awful easy, Nancy. What happened to the girl who never stopped on a case? What happened to the one who followed any lead no matter how painful it might be? Did you turn into a coward? Or is it because you don't really care about any of this? It's not like you were ever there to help Frank with anything before. A year he's been dealing with this crap, and you didn't come, not once. Barely even called. I had to call you. I'd say it was Ned, but you don't even care about him, do you?”_

_Nancy curled up a fist, shaking her head. “I know that is just the frustration talking, but that was low. I know I haven't been the kind of girlfriend Ned deserves or the friend Frank did, but don't you dare say it was cowardice or because I don't feel anything. You have no idea what I'm going through, and if I couldn't push aside the guilt, I'd have shut down far worse than Frank.”_

_“Nancy—”_

_“Don't. You're hurting. You're scared for Frank. I understand that. I just... can't work with you right now.” She left the room, and Joe swore, tempted to knock something over just to get out some of this frustration._

Joe shook it off, looking at Bess. “Being worried about Frank made my tongue run off a bit. I snapped at Nancy. She... I owe her an apology.”

Bess nodded, but she seemed distracted.

“So... the car accident?” Joe prodded. “Come on, tell me what happened there. I still don't know what that was about.”

Bess drew in a breath and let it out, like she was deciding what she could tell him and what she couldn't. “I guess the three of you split up after your visit to the lawyer. You and your father went back to visit Zollner. I don't know if the plan was to use something from Debries to bluff him or if you thought being there yourself would unsettle him or make him give something away in all his gloating, but Zollner...”

“What, he committed suicide? That's so not like—”

“He escaped, Joe.”

* * *

Bess watched as Joe struggled with what she was telling him, wishing fervently that she wasn't in this position, but then no one had expected him to wake up for hours—if he woke up at all. They all should have known better. Joe Hardy was too stubborn to die, and he wasn't about to give up when Frank was still missing. Still, she knew it had been a close thing, and he shouldn't be able to talk right now. He was too hurt for that, but she'd never known a Hardy to quit or accept any kind of limit, not Joe, at least.

“Escaped?”

Bess nodded. “Whether he was an imposter or not, no one knows, but his people got him out of the prison. I don't know the details there, either. I wasn't any part of that. You and your father went to investigate it, but Nancy didn't go with you. You were headed back, I think, when your car was hit by a semi. It... I...”

“Bess?”

“I saw pictures,” she whispered. “You really should be dead, Joe. You and your dad. I don't know how either of you survived.”

Joe rubbed his head, getting frustrated again. “I don't understand. Why don't I remember anything after Debries' house if the accident didn't happen until after we went to the prison? That makes no sense. I should remember that part. And—wait, Dad. How is Dad? He's not—”

“He's got a room of his own,” Bess said. “Both of you were in such bad shape... Your dad hasn't regained consciousness yet. I don't think, anyway. I'm not sure. I didn't... I was here. Your mother's with him. I don't think she's left his side for anything but you. Your aunt almost got herself banned from the hospital. Your friends have been in and out of here all day. I think your mom finally convinced most of them to go home.”

“Not you?” Joe asked, frowning.

Bess shrugged. “What do I have to go back to besides a hotel room? I came to help Carson with Ned, and I suppose I could have gone home after that, but I didn't feel like I could leave with all of this going on. And now...”

Joe nodded. He leaned back against his pillows. “I have got to get out of here.”

“To do what? You still don't know where Zollner is, you're mostly dead, and killing yourself is not going to get Frank back. That's not an option.”

Joe gave her a slight smile. “I'm not planning on killing myself, but I can't do anything here. I need the files. I need a computer. I need to see that accident report. I'm missing something, and if the key to all of this is in that time that I've somehow blacked out, then I've got to find it. I just need something to jog my memory a little.”

“I can get you the files and a computer,” Bess told him. She wasn't sure where any of that was, but she could ask Mrs. Hardy. She didn't want to face that aunt of his, but she didn't think his mother would deny her anything, especially when she heard Joe was awake. “I'll go talk to your mother. I'm sure she'd like to know you're awake anyway.”

“Bess—”

“It won't take me very long,” she promised. “It's just down the hall, and you're not actually alone. There's a couple policemen right outside your door, protecting you.”

“I'd much rather you helped me get out of here. Files and computers—”

“Joe, you almost _died,”_ Bess repeated. “How much will it take to get that through your head? It wasn't just once. It was twice. First Callie stabbed you, then you were in that accident—and I don't care if you don't remember it, it almost killed you—and you are not leaving that bed until the doctors say you can. I won't help you kill yourself. Not for Frank, not for your dad... not for anyone.”

He groaned, hitting the bed in frustration, but Bess couldn't give into him. She knew that. She had to be just as stubborn as he was and let him heal. He was an easy target like this, but even more than that, if anyone was going to find Frank, it was Joe.

Bess pulled her hand from Joe's. “Like I said, I'll only be a minute. If your mom tells me where everything is, I'll go get it right away. And I do want to tell her that you're awake. She should know. It might help, since your father hasn't come around yet.”

“Fine, but at least ask Nancy to come by and talk to me. I know I said some stupid crap, but I need her help to finish this. It's not the same as working with Frank, but I need her to... Bess, where is Nancy?”

Bess swallowed. “I don't know. No one does. She... It looks like Zollner took her, too.”


	28. A Few More Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe gets some answers. Frank gets some, too, though they're not the ones he wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that Fenton's explanation is enough. The idea of trying to write all that was not... one I liked, at all. I much preferred the time skip.
> 
> And yes, I know I haven't explained everything yet, but that last part is someone else's to tell.

* * *

“What do you mean, Nancy's missing? How is Nancy missing? What the hell happened?” Joe demanded, trying to get out of his bed. He had to fix this. He had to do something. Something was wrong here, and it wasn't just that Frank was still missing or that Joe couldn't remember everything. He needed to know what was happening, and he needed to _do_ something.

“Joseph Hardy,” his mother said from the doorway, and Joe winced, aware that he must have scared Bess and her with that little outburst. “While I am glad to see you're awake, I'm not impressed with your behavior.”

“Mom, I... This doesn't feel right. I'm missing like an entire day and—”

“And you suffered a lot of head trauma in addition to being almost crushed in that car,” Laura said, shaking her head. “I'm not a doctor, but with as many times as that head of yours has been hit, I think you're fortunate you have a memory at all. You'll have to see the neurologist for a better opinion than that. Now calm down. Please.”

“How am I supposed to be calm? Zollner still has Frank. He escaped. And he's got Nancy, too. And Dad is—”

“Your father is awake,” Laura told him with a tired smile. “I guess you both figured you'd had enough time in bed. I'm not sure which one of you woke first—if it was you and your brother, I'd tell you to argue about it later. First, though, I'm going to go find some doctors and get you both looked at.”

“I want to see Dad,” Joe told her, trying to get up again. “If I can see Dad, then I—maybe he knows what I can't remember, and we have to start looking for Nancy and—”

“And you're not moving from that bed until the doctors look at you.” Laura's voice made it clear there was no arguing with her. She wasn't going to budge. Joe wanted to groan, but Bess gave his hand a squeeze, and he forced a smile for her. At least she was here. That helped. Not much, but some.

“It's better if they see you. I was surprised you were so... coherent,” Bess told him. “When I heard about the accident, I was so afraid we'd lost that Hardy charm for good.”

“Nah, not me,” Joe said, trying to reassure her, though he really didn't know how close it had been. She said he almost died. So had his father. Frank was missing. Almost the entire Hardy line wiped out in one stroke. That would have been a disaster, not that things weren't that far from it as they stood now. “I'm not dead. And I don't plan on letting that happen to any of us. So... while Mom gets the doctor, why don't you tell me what happened with Nancy? Did... I don't even—”

“It wasn't your fault, Joe. Nancy's a big girl, and while you may have said some stuff that hurt, she can take it. It's not like she broke down and gave up or anything. She's just... I guess any of you working alone is a bad idea,” Bess said with a grimace. She shook her head. “You dropped her off at your house before you went to the prison. That is, I think, the last time anyone saw her.”

Joe would have to ask his dad about that, too. “Could she have gone off on her own? Following some lead or something?”

“Your friend Chet found her cellphone in your bushes, destroyed.” Bess shook her head. “As much as we might want Nancy to have done something childish and done it herself, that seems so unlike her, and while we can't be sure it was Zollner—”

“If that guy in the leather jacket was working for Zollner, then it had to be him.”

* * *

Frank looked at the headstone, fully aware that even if he wasn't in Zollner's hands he wouldn't believe it. He would have to have been there when they breathed their last to accept this, and he hadn't been. He'd seen nothing, and without seeing it, without having been there when it happened, he would not believe it.

His father was not dead. Joe wasn't dead. That was unacceptable. All of this was just another of Zollner's mind games. He'd said it himself—the death of his father and brother was supposed to make Frank break. He would lose hope of rescue, and he would give in.

Frank was tired. He didn't want to keep fighting. A part of him didn't want to survive this, had given up hope. He did not know that he could ever come back from all of it, and would he even want to, knowing what he'd cost everyone? He'd been the one Zollner chose as his “heir,” the one he had to have and was determined to use past all reason and sense. Because of him, Callie had become a killer, Ned could be the same, so far saved from it because they'd recognized his behavior as similar to hers. Haggard was dead. Zollner's lawyer was dead. And if they were going to “visit” Nancy, then Zollner had hurt her as well. How many other people would pay the price for Frank's mistake?

He didn't know. Zollner was using them all against him—they were effective that way, the best weapons he had—and he wouldn't stop. He'd find more ways to make the people Frank cared about—or even ones he was only acquainted with—suffer until Frank gave in.

“You know I still don't believe you.”

“Of course you don't,” Zollner said, and Frank glared at him. He had to fight off a wave of nausea, so dizzy he almost fell, and Zollner grabbed him, holding him up on his feet. “So strong and so stubborn.”

“I'm not going to break because you faked a couple headstones,” Frank said. He knew in some ways—many ways—it would be easier just to give Zollner what he wanted. All of this could end.

Only it wouldn't. People Frank knew would still suffer because after Zollner had Frank, he'd use everyone in Frank's life, using their family or friendship to twist them into pawns in the new organization he wanted to use Frank to build. Stopping Zollner was the only way any of them got any kind of freedom.

Trouble was, Frank could see no way of doing it. Though he was no longer chained to a wall, he was drugged more than before, and while he could move, his attempts to injure Zollner so far hadn't worked. He found it embarrassing how ineffective he was, unable to hit the man when he was right next to him. And that was only _one_ of the three. Killing this twin would still leave the other alive, and he would continue his work. As for the third—Frank still didn't know what to make of him, but that one was more dangerous than the other two, being less predictable and more adaptable. If both twins died, he could still take over the organization, and he would be just as ruthless, only he was a shadow they couldn't pin down.

“I have other things to offer,” Zollner said. “Video footage of the funeral. Pictures of the bodies. Accident reports. Coroner’s reports. They are gone, Franklin. Eventually you will accept that.”

“I don't even believe we are actually outside right now,” Frank told him. “Your drugs aren't that good. You can't fool me with them. The clouds aren't moving. There's not even the slightest breeze. The light is still artificial. The smell of the grass is wrong—it's fake. All of it is. Just like you.”

Zollner hit him, and Frank fell forward, knocking his skull against Joe's headstone and quickly losing that battle.

* * *

“Thank you for staying with him,” Laura said, passing Bess a coffee. She took it, feeling less than certain about her role here. She had never been as close to the Hardys as Nancy was, and she wasn't an investigator, not in the same way. She'd helped Nancy a few times—more like hundreds of times—but that didn't mean she knew what to do now. Brainwashing, kidnapping, murder—she'd dealt with some of it before, but this was all one big mess and it was hurting too many people she cared about to keep herself thinking straight.

“I know I wasn't the only one willing to stay,” Bess told her. “Any one of his friends would have been in my place. I just... was the one who had nowhere else to go.”

“That's not the point. He needed someone to keep him still, and you were here to do it. I'm grateful to you,” Laura insisted. “I don't know if it will be easier or harder with them in the same room. It should be easier, but with Joe and Fenton—it would be worse if it were Joe and Frank, but it's not.”

Bess didn't say anything, not able to respond to the unspoken _it might never be Joe and Frank again._ She couldn't do that. Joe wouldn't be the same if he lost his brother, and while Bess had always gotten along better with Joe, she liked Frank. She wanted to believe he would be found and soon.

“Okay,” Joe said, loud enough to get everyone's attention. “Can someone explain to me exactly what happened? Bess gave me some of it, and we've got a theory or two about Nancy, but that's not all of it. How am I missing everything after Debries' house?”

“The doctor said you might have some problems with your short term memory.”

“We're sure it's that and not... brainwashing?” Joe asked, looking around at everyone. “I do not want it to be brainwashing, but we all know it's possible. If Zollner got to Ned and Callie, he might have gone after one of us. He should have, if he really wanted to control Frank. He should have picked me, right? Since Frank and I are so close...”

“Don't you dare blame yourself for not being taken,” Laura said, shaking her head. “The last thing I want is to lose both of you. I still believe you're going to get your brother back, and I am—I have already lived through two close calls with you this week. Don't do this. Don't go borrowing trouble. We've got plenty as it is.”

“Your mother is right,” Fenton said, his voice quiet. “I don't know everything, don't have all your answers, but I may be able to fill in a few of the blanks. As Bess told you, we split up after Debries' house. Nancy was upset and wanted to work through it on her own. We dropped her off at the house, and as soon as she walked inside, I got a call from Carter. He told us Zollner's lawyer was there to visit him at the prison—”

“Debries was dead, though. We all saw the body. He couldn't have been at the prison.”

Fenton nodded. “We think Zollner's people used Debries as a way in, and with the help of guards under his control, they got him out. You and I started for the prison as soon as Carter said the lawyer was there. It... I think that gave us perfect timing to get stuck in the diversion Zollner used to escape once he knew we were onto him.”

Joe rubbed his head. He wasn't the only one confused. “What?”

“Your father means that the semi was deliberately driven into oncoming traffic to create an accident and tie up all the emergency crews.”

“It looked like the accident had already happened when we were getting close,” Fenton said. He shook his head. “I thought it was done, and I'd slowed down, but that truck went almost right for us... The rest I'm afraid is a blur of honking horns, twisting metal, and screams.”

“I didn't scream,” Joe protested, getting a laugh from everyone despite the circumstances. “I didn't, right, Dad?”

Fenton looked at him. “I didn't if you didn't.”

* * *

Frank had hoped that Zollner was just lying.

He wanted to blame it on his head, too. It hurt like hell, and he couldn't stand on his own feet between it and the drugs. He was going to vomit again, and somehow he didn't understand how Zollner expected to keep him alive if he kept doing things like that. Frank wasn't invulnerable. He knew he hadn't healed from the rest of what they'd done to him, and sooner or later, his body would give out, unable to take the strain any longer.

Still, that strain wasn't as hard to handle as seeing Nancy in front of him, breathing tube in her mouth, machines beeping around her, keeping her alive.

“What did you do?”

“I told you—this was the accident,” Zollner said, touching Frank's shoulder and making him jerk. “It is most unfortunate. I was hoping to use her to great advantage.”

“Why?” Frank grimaced. “Never mind. I forgot. Nancy has as many connections as Joe and I do, maybe even more. That's why you want her.”

“Well, that and you don't have the same issue as I do,” Zollner said, making Frank frown at him. He didn't know what that lunatic was talking about now. He just knew he was going to have to find a way to free both himself and Nancy, and since his best plan so far involved getting himself killed, he was not very optimistic at the moment.

“Let her go.”

“I am not holding her,” Zollner said. “She needs medical care that I am not able to provide. My... associate keeps tabs on her progress, but she remains the same as she has been since the accident. She will not wake.”

 _Because you won't let her,_ Frank thought. He knew the accident wasn't real. He could see no real sign of it on Nancy—there wouldn't be, not when Zollner wanted him to believe months had passed, so she wouldn't even have a bump on the head.

“Have you ever played chess, Franklin?”

“Yes.”

“Life, I have found, is like a giant game of chess—albeit with less rules,” Zollner said, his hand on Frank again. “We are all pieces on the board except for those few of us who know the board exists and control it instead of letting it control us. I do not merely capture my opponents pawns... I turn them into my own.”

“I am not a pawn.”

Zollner laughed. “Of course not. You are of much more value than a mere pawn, as is your friend here. Pawns are the disposable sort of pieces, one that can be broken and discarded without any great cost. Haggard. Debries. Miss Shaw. Mr. Nickerson. A shame about his friend, though. That one was more like a success story.”

“What—Gary? He _was_ one of yours?”


	29. Turn of a Tide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Answers... of a sort and possible leads. Yes, those things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I knew what I was going to do with this, mostly, other than Joe's scene, but I ended up with a really brutal work schedule the last couple days, and while I managed to get this done, I'm actually close to passing out at my computer, so I have to hope it makes sense. It did when I read it, but judgment is very compromised at the moment due to lack of sleep.
> 
> I think this is about the last of the necessary answers, too. Or I hope it is because I'm not sure I can get more out of Zollner or anyone else.

* * *

“No, you're just lying. You are trying to confuse me again,” Frank said, pulling away from Zollner. He almost fell out of his seat, and he had to grab hold of it, trying to stay off the floor. He was starting to feel more of his body and its various aches—his head was still the worst, but he thought if things abated again just a little, he could try and stand. He needed to get up, get out of here.

He could escape if he was just close enough to the door—though he wasn't sure that door led anywhere he wanted to go. The headstones were fake—not just them but the whole cemetery, which meant that they were... Where? Frank knew this wasn't a hospital here, just like that hadn't been a real cemetery.

If there was some truth to what Zollner was saying, if he was controlling the board—none of this was real—and that the location. He'd have to have a place where he could arrange all of this, set up a realistic but still false front for both a cemetery and a hospital.

A movie studio? Frank couldn't remember one in the holdings he knew of for Zollner, but he knew he couldn't have been aware of all of them or he would have been found by now.

“You are confusing yourself,” Zollner said, sounding amused. “I can see the strain as you try and decide what you will and won't accept. If you trusted me, you would already know what was worth believing.”

“Trusting you would be the worst mistake anyone could ever make,” Frank told him. He closed his eyes, drawing in a breath and letting it out again. “Gary... You did brainwash him? He was one of yours?”

Zollner nodded. “He was. Not in the sense of Mr. Nickerson or Miss Shaw, but not everyone needs that sort of programming to be useful. Killing comes easier to some than it does others. It doesn't need to be a command or a response to anger. It was... a part of Gary he wished to deny for the sake of passing for some archaic notion of normalcy and acceptable behavior, but he found freedom from all of that, and he was much happier.”

“Was Gary always one of yours or did you pick him because he knew Ned and Ned knew Nancy and Nancy knew me?”

Zollner laughed. “Oh, Franklin, while I do have many uses for you and your connections, I cannot say it was only ever always about you. I have been at the helm of this empire for... well, a gentleman never reveals his age. I haven't always been aware of you or your existence. Several tools were mine long before I knew of you and how perfectly you fit all of my needs.”

Frank shuddered. “You know that's not true. If I was perfect, you wouldn't have to break me.”

“Breaking you will perfect you, but we should go,” Zollner said. “We can't linger long in this place.”

“Wait,” Frank said, forcing himself to his feet. He'd still wanted to try for the door, but even if he couldn't—he had to delay going back. He didn't want another round of drugs. He didn't want to leave Nancy. She wasn't in the care of real doctors. She was—it wasn't a hospital. She wasn't really in a coma. They were using some sort of drug to keep her comatose, and if it was just a drug, Frank knew what he had to do. 

He dodged Zollner's attempt to catch him, stumbling over into Nancy's bed. She didn't wake, and the machines kept on beating like it was all something far from a charade.

“Franklin—”

“You said I was here to see Nancy. I haven't done that. I haven't said...” Frank let his words trail off as he tried to get to the IV without Zollner seeing him do it. Frank slipped a hand over the bed rail. He couldn't reach the IV from here, damn it.

“Said what?”

Frank snorted. “The list is practically endless. That I'm sorry. That I wish I'd never gotten her mixed up in this. That I want her to wake up. That I would get her out of here if I could. Take your pick. I haven't said any of it.”

“Now you have.”

Did Zollner know what Frank was trying to do? Frank looked at him, gagging on what he was about to say. “Please. Just... let me have a minute to say something... something private.”

Zollner watched him. “Is this going to confirm Nickerson's inflated sense of jealousy? I swear, that man was so insecure it was ridiculous. If he couldn't handle the woman flirting, he should have cut his losses long ago. Still, if there was something between you and Miss Drew...”

“Then what?” Frank asked, wondering if he would have to put on an act of his own to get this done. “Why is it so impossible for you to let me say a few words to someone in a coma? Afraid I'll be able to prove she's not actually unconscious and that you lied about all of this? Well?”

Zollner waved his hand. “Go ahead. Tell her. Whisper words of love in her unhearing ears.”

Frank turned away from him, facing Nancy. He made a show of taking her hand and wrapping his around it, leaning down to her ear. He thought about saying that he hoped it would work, but he didn't know how much Zollner could see or if he knew how to read lips. Frank swallowed.

“I really do want to say I'm sorry,” he told her. “And... I've missed you. More than you know. I... There's more I'd say, but I... I can't. Not here.”

He set Nancy's hand down, yanking out the IV and sticking it into the bed so it would look like it was still in place. He turned back to Zollner, fighting his gag reflex as he said, “Thank you.”

Zollner smiled. “I see we are making progress. I'm glad. Now, though, I am afraid you must have more of this.”

Frank hated himself for not fighting the sedative, but he had to hope if he didn't, then Zollner wouldn't notice the IV. Everything rested on that, and Frank would just have to endure whatever Zollner might do to him so long as he didn't see that.

* * *

“How much longer am I going to be stuck here?” Joe demanded, tempted to get up and leave no matter what they said or how much it hurt. That car accident had cost them too much already. They'd lost time. They'd lost Nancy. They'd lost Zollner. He had to do something about that, change something. He needed to get back to work finding his brother—and his friend.

“Not long,” Laura said, sighing. “I know you, and I know we can't keep you here, though I would if I thought... Well, you'll just make things worse sitting completely still. I know you well enough to know that much. I also know you'd better at least start healing before you go trying to get yourself broken again.”

“Mom—”

“Don't. I know how you think, and as long as your brother is missing, you won't rest. I should have them sedate you just to let you heal,” Laura told him. She sighed, and Joe knew she was tired. She probably hadn't slept since the accident, not unless she fell asleep in the chair next to his dad, and he knew that wasn't rest.

“I will be careful,” Joe told her, “but I need to do something. Zollner has Frank. And Nancy. And his imposter or whatever he is—I checked, Zollner supposedly doesn't have any siblings, but I'm not ruling it out—is free. We have to do something, and sitting in bed is not doing something.”

“Your father is asleep. Your friends have gone home—or to their hotel rooms—and I don't know that there's anything that can be done right now. You're looking for a piece you don't have, and no one even knows where to look anymore.”

“We haven't finished with those names,” Joe began, though he knew that was a long shot at best. He didn't want it to be, but he wasn't an idiot. If the names were that important, if they had that much information for them, they'd already have found it. “There might be something there, something small and obscure and not at all what we think. Or maybe something from the house or from the prison break... There has to be something. We have to get Frank back. And Nancy. But Frank...”

“Your brother is strong,” Laura said. “And he has faith in you. He knows you are doing everything you can. Don't think he doesn't.”

“That's not enough.”

“Are you kidding?” Laura asked. “It's all Frank has, and you better believe it means everything to him. He won't let go of it.”

Joe looked at his hands. He still needed to get out of here, because it wasn't enough for him. He rubbed his forehead. “What about Albright? Did we figure out if he was involved? Is he really treating Callie or was he in on all of this?”

Laura hesitated, and Joe leaned forward in the bed, knowing she knew something.

“Tell me. Please.”

“We're not sure. He denies it, but he _did_ admit to allowing someone to assist him—”

“Zollner.”

Laura shook her head. “No, he didn't recognize Zollner. He did give us a description, though.”

Joe fought a grin. This could be just the break they needed.

* * *

_Nancy stood outside the house, unwilling to go inside. What Joe had said echoed in her head, making her feel them all over again. She didn't care about being called a coward. She knew that she wasn't a coward._

_But unfeeling..._

_That scared her, because sometimes it seemed like it might be true. Could she be unfeeling? When she looked at her relationship with Ned, she sometimes believed it was. He had not gotten her undivided heart, not even her undivided attention. He was always in competition with mysteries, with whatever case she was working on or what caught her attention. When she thought of the things she was willing to do to solve a case, things she wasn't willing to do for him, she had to wonder how anyone had ever thought she cared about him at all. She certainly felt lousy at showing it._

_She wasn't even sure that she was that good of a friend._

_No, she wasn't. She just flat out wasn't._

_She heard something crunch behind her, and she whirled around, expecting to have to explain her presence to Laura or Gertrude Hardy, but instead, her mouth went dry as her eyes took in the man in front of her. Leather jacket._

_He wasn't wearing the jacket, not this time, but she couldn't forget that face. She'd thought it would be the last thing she saw. “Miss Drew. We were interrupted last time.”_

_She shook her head, bumping back into the house and trying to remember which way to run for the door. She could get inside and lock it behind her, call for help, grab a weapon. Out here, she would have to fight him, and last time, she'd lost that battle._

_“You came to finish what you started?” Nancy asked, hoping she sounded braver than she was. “I hope you brought a better weapon this time.”_

_“A rock is so crude and rather ineffective, it's true,” he agreed, “but it would have served my purpose, had your boyfriend not interfered.”_

_She shook her head. “Murder is a crude no matter how you look at it.”_

_He laughed. “Why do you assume I intended to kill you?”_

_She stared. “I—why wouldn't you? I saw you kill that man. I overheard you saying he'd killed Haggard. He was—”_

_“Sloppy, yes, but you are far too valuable to die in so inglorious a manner,” Leather Jacket said with a smile that reminded her of Zollner's. “Or did you really think Franklin was supposed to be taken first?”_

_“No. You might work for Zollner, but that trip wasn't planned. Ned didn't—”_

_“Didn't tell you where you were going because he didn't know,” Leather Jacket finished, using her surprise to grab hold of her arm. She twisted in his grasp, almost avoiding the needle. It hit her side instead of her arm, and he swore, slamming her into the house. She hit her head, and he took out a second syringe. “I told him where I wanted you, and he brought you to me. Circumstances prevented that from playing out as it should have, but trust me, Miss Drew... I have plans for you.”_

_She kicked at him, but there was enough of the drug in her system to slow her down and make her move clumsy enough for him to dodge. He administered the second dose, and everything spun before it went dark._

Nancy's hand touched something wet, and she grimaced, only half-awake. She must have spilled something... She didn't know what, but she was too tired to deal with that now.


	30. Coincidence, Not Convenience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nancy wakes up. Joe makes a connection and refuses to let it go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coincidences that get characters out of trouble are cheating. I read that somewhere.
> 
> So I only used the coincidences up to a point. At least it's a chapter, right?

* * *

The beeping would have driven Nancy slowly insane if she hadn't forced her eyes open. She blinked, trying to understand what she was seeing. She wasn't going to make a joke about drinking with Joe again, not this time. She did feel hungover, but not in the same way as before. She knew she was in a hospital bed again, but she didn't understand—Ned had not rescued her this time. He wasn't there. He was in the hands of doctors, and they didn't even know if those could be trusted.

She swallowed. She knew that Leather Jacket had come for her outside the Hardy's house. She knew that she could have been found by Laura or Gertrude, but since Leather Jacket had plans for her, it seemed unlikely that Nancy would have been left there to _be_ found. She wouldn't think that she could have ended up in a hospital any other way, though, because Leather Jacket would not have left her in one, not if he wanted to use her.

She moved her hand, getting ready to sit up, when she touched a wet part of the bed. She'd be embarrassed if she thought it was possible she'd had the kind of accident usually reserved for young children, but she knew she would have smelled that the moment she opened her eyes.

She hadn't. She pushed herself up, getting a better look at her sheet. Other than being darker where the wetness was, she could see nothing to show what had caused the puddle. Nothing, that was, other than her IV. That had been pulled from her arm and seemed to be all over the bed.

She frowned. What that meant, she wasn't sure yet, but she didn't think she wanted to try and put it back. Wherever she was, she had to find a way out of here. If it turned out she was in a normal hospital, they'd forgive her, but if she wasn't, she had to get out before anyone noticed she was awake.

She grimaced. The moment she moved out of the bed, they'd know. She had monitors attached to her, and no good way of silencing them without setting off an alert.

Then she'd have to use that, somehow. She wasn't sure she could—her body was sluggish in responding to her commands, and she didn't think she was capable of fighting anyone. Still, she'd have to see if she could escape these monitors and this room without bringing everyone down on her.

Leather Jacket had spoken like he worked for Zollner or was connected to him. In fact, their voices had been so alike in her last encounter with him that she could have thought he _was_ Zollner.

That could mean—if she was lucky, maybe—that she was in the same place as Frank. She didn't know that she would be—smart people would keep them apart, and if this was a hospital, she doubted Frank was here, but she would have to try and find him, too.

She almost laughed, thinking of how likely she was to fail at all of this. She didn't know that she was capable of getting herself out of this room, and trying to save everyone was probably out of the question. She wasn't superwoman.

She heard something outside her door, and she laid back down, closing her eyes. She would have to see if anyone came in and if it was Leather Jacket. If she could be sure she was not in a regular hospital, then she might have an idea of how to get out of here without being caught. She just wasn't sure she could pull it off.

The door scuffed the floor as it opened, and she waited, trying not to tense up as she did. She had to appear still asleep until she had a better idea who was coming into the room. If she managed to time it right, she'd have the element of surprise if she needed it—and she figured she would.

She heard the click of a button and static crackling before a voice spoke. “She's still in her room. Still asleep. Shame about that. I'd like to wake her up, if you know what I mean.”

“I know you're being crude and quickly outliving your usefulness,” another voice said, and she thought it could have been Zollner. “Finish your rounds and keep your commentary to yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah, boss,” the first voice said, but despite his orders, after the button clicked off, she heard him moving toward the bed instead of away from it and back out the door.

He probably intended to cop a feel, and Nancy would have shuddered if she could have allowed herself to do it. She held still, knowing that she'd never get a better chance at this, since he'd just reported in. That made it perfect—and her very, very lucky.

Something loomed over her bed, and she heard heavy breathing. As a hand groped for her, she used her own to grab hold of her IV stand and bring it crashing down on the back of his head. She'd had to guess using the panting breaths, but it seemed to have worked. She hit him a second time as he cursed and tried to back away. Stumbling, he lost his balance and fell into the bed, knocking the rail with a loud thump before slumping to the ground.

She glanced at the rail. Most of them were plastic these days, so she wasn't sure why the guy had gone down so hard, but she wasn't sure she cared so long as he stayed down. That had gone so much better than she'd hoped, and she couldn't afford to let herself lose ground now.

She detached her monitors and put them on the guard, wishing he'd been someone closer to her size, since she wasn't going to get far in a hospital gown. She pulled the IV over and stuck the needle in his arm. If she'd been drugged, that would keep him here for a while.

If not... he'd get some extra hydration and better nutrition than usual, judging from his physique.

She took the keys off his belt and went to the door.

She stepped out and stopped, wondering if this was just a dream.

After all, she was looking at what appeared to be a shopping mall.

* * *

Joe looked at the image and then at the other, trying to decide if he saw a difference.  He didn't, and that was half the problem. He'd gotten printouts this time, since no one seemed willing to let him have a laptop—he didn't see why. He wasn't Frank and couldn't hack into the kind of databases he figured they needed—and the stark lines of the pencil sketches against the white paper were clear.

“So...” Joe began, putting down the papers. “The guy that Albright said 'assisted' him was the same guy that Nancy described as Leather Jacket.”

Fenton looked over and grunted. He nodded, taking the papers and comparing the two images. Joe tried not to glare at him. Though they had both been in the accident and both of them ended up injured and unconscious, his father was already allowed to be up and moving while everyone kept trying to force Joe to stay in this stupid bed. “It's him—if we trust a word Albright is saying, and I'm not sure we can. I think he shouldn't be allowed to treat anyone.”

“And you could be overreacting to what happened with Callie,” Joe said. He didn't know that they were—he couldn't be sure that he hadn't triggered something new—but he also didn't know if that had been waiting all along. He hadn't seen Callie much since she was taken, and most of the time, he'd had Frank as a buffer—at least until she'd tried to kill him. “It could have been there all along. We don't know that it was anything Albright did or what this Leather Jacket did.”

“Vallin,” Fenton said, and Joe looked over at him, about to say he did not need any sort of drug when his father clarified, “His name is Vallin, or at least that's what he went by when he was working with Albright.”

“Have we been able to find anything on him under that name?” Joe asked. He needed his ears checked, but he wasn't about to admit that here. They'd turn it into some unreasonable excuse for him to be stuck here for even longer than he already was. “Maybe if we traced it, then we could find some way of connecting him to Zollner or some property, the place where he is holding Frank—”

“In an ideal world, yes,” his father agreed. He sounded tired, and Joe actually thought that maybe he was considering giving up. Joe didn't want to believe that. Frank hadn't been missing for that long yet, and everyone said Zollner wanted him alive. Frank was still alive. Joe _knew_ it. “We will have to see what this new name can tell us. We're still waiting to hear back from the others. It's possible either the FBI or another agency can tell us more about the name and its possible connections, but we will have to wait and see.”

“Wait? That better not be code for keeping me in bed.” Joe shook his head. “We can't afford to wait. We've already wasted too much time. We have to find Frank. Who knows what Zollner has done to him? He needs us. He needs to be free of that bastard. We have to do that for him. Now.”

Fenton sighed. “Even with Albright giving us a name, we don't have anything else to go on. Vallin's not on that list of names you and your brother were investigating. He's not much of anywhere, just like Zollner doesn't seem to be anywhere.”

“Only that's a lie—”

“And we don't know that we can trust what Albright said.”

Joe rolled his eyes. “If we don't, where are we? Back at square one with no hope at all of finding Frank. Or Nancy. No. We can't do that. We can—We can talk to Callie.”

“Are you insane? You know that—”

“I don't have to be the one that does it, and I don't want to trigger her again, but she can confirm Albright's story, and she's got no reason to lie,” Joe said. He grimaced. “Dad, I know she hurt me, but I believed her when she said she didn't want anything to happen to Frank. I still don't think she does. I don't think she wanted to hurt me. She just... Let her have this. She'll need it. If she can be a part of getting Frank back, if she can do that bit of good, it will help her recover for real this time.”

Fenton sighed again, but this time Joe knew he had won.

* * *

Though she was still not sure what to think of anything she'd seen thus far, Nancy knew she'd been fortunate so far. She'd gotten lost several times, but she'd managed to avoid getting caught. She'd found clothes in the false facade of the shopping mall, and she no longer had to wander around naked, though if she understood any part of where she was, it would be a lot easier to know where to go.

She was starting to think this place was a maze without an end or an exit, and its strange hodgepodge of rooms and themes was difficult to understand. She didn't see the point of it except as some sideshow, a twisted place where someone acted out a demented fantasy. All of it was a jumbled mess that psychiatrists would have field days with, and she didn't want to know what it said about the mind that created it.

She was still that person's prisoner—and so was Frank.

She turned the corner and found herself in a cemetery, feeling sick as she crossed through it. She didn't know how long she'd been unconscious—drugged—and how long she'd been without food, but she'd been awake for hours and had a sinking suspicion that her blood sugar was low.

She stumbled her way across the field, knowing she hadn't been here before and hoping it led toward somewhere useful for once. She just needed to get to the other side, and then she'd—Nancy stopped. Her eye had barely caught it, but she'd still seen enough. _Hardy._ The headstones were marked for Fenton and Joe.

If Frank had seen this...

She shook her head, refusing to think about that. Frank wouldn't believe it, and it wasn't true. She knew they'd been fine when they dropped her off. Frank was the one they had to worry about, and she knew—if these headstones were here, then Frank was here somewhere.

She was going to find him.

* * *

“It really is a shame we must return to hurting you, Franklin.”

Frank snorted, curling up against the nearest surface—a wall, he thought, but he wasn't sure of much right now—he knew the drugs would kick in soon, and the pain was already there. “You enjoyed that, you bastard.”

Zollner laughed. “I enjoy your capitulation much more, but I have developed a certain affinity for causing pain.”

“You could have been a dentist,” Frank muttered, not sure why he said it, but Joe would have—if Joe got the reference, which Frank wasn't sure he would. He didn't remember now if his brother had ever seen the play or the movie.

“I much prefer the work I do over that profession,” Zollner said. He knelt next to Frank, patting his cheek. “Would you like your shirt back?”

Frank just stared at him. Saying yes was like giving in. Saying no was equally unacceptable. He said nothing instead, closing his eyes and letting himself pretend that the drugs were already working. Zollner would probably give him the shirt now, since he liked to pretend he cared.

“Goodnight,” Zollner told him, and Frank jerked when he heard a door open. He looked around for it, but he'd managed to miss seeing where it was in this room, again. Back to the white walls and pain—they knew their lies about his father and Joe hadn't worked, and now...

Now it was back to the basics, he supposed.

“Frank?”

He lifted his head and frowned, trying not to gag. Not that the sight would be unwelcome, if it were real, but he wasn't sure it was—that she was. “Nancy?”

“You are such a mess,” she whispered, and judging from the near horror in her voice, Frank figured she might just be real. “What did they do to you?”

“Easier to ask what they didn't do,” Frank said. “Much shorter list. They... If... Pulling the IV worked, then... you have to get out of here. Go.”

“Not without you. I can't leave you to—”

“They always drug me when they leave,” Frank interrupted. “Already can't feel half my body. Can't run. Can't... Zollner has a twin. And another brother. I think. Not sure on him. Know there is a twin. They... brainwashed... same personality... Killed lawyer—”

“Frank, stop, you can tell me later. We can get you out of—”

“No... time,” Frank's words were slurring badly now, and his eyes wouldn't open back up. He knew it wouldn't be much longer before he was aware of nothing at all. “Third brother... Leather Jack...”

“I know. Come on, please try and stay with me. Just a little bit longer. We can get out of here. I think I found the right way through this maze he's created.”

“Movie... studio.”

“That makes sense, too, but Frank, you have to stay awake—”

“Can't. Sorry.”


	31. Minor Progress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nancy continues her escape attempt. Joe continues to hunt for his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nancy's first scene wasn't supposed to get so long, but set up made it take longer than intended. I'm glad I didn't try and tack her reaction onto her scene last chapter, though. It would have been bad.
> 
> In case it wasn't clear before, writing for friends of Frank and Joe scares the crap out of me as I just don't know them well enough, but they are here and helping, just quieter than Bess and George because I don't know how to properly give them a voice. Honestly, I don't even know how to give those two a proper voice.
> 
> And... someone guessed at part of this, but I had to go and put my own twist on it. I'm just stubborn that way.

* * *

Nancy leaned against the wall, needing some rest. She was tired, and she didn't know how many more times she could manage to get turned around in this place. She also had the added pressure of knowing that she had to be running out of time. That guard's absence had to be noticed—or it would be soon enough. She didn't have much time, and she still didn't know where Frank was.

She heard what sounded like a door, and she ducked back, trying to make sure she was out of sight. She waited, watching as Leather Jacket went inside. She swallowed. That had to be where they were keeping Frank.

She chastised herself, knowing that was too much to assume. Still, she edged forward, going to where the crack in the wall was, needing to be sure where the hidden door was, since she didn't see any sign of it besides that gap. They'd hidden it even in the middle of their maze, which did support the idea of it being where Frank was.

She slid the door open just a slight bit more, unsure if she could slip inside or if she needed to wait back where Leather Jacket had missed seeing her. She saw Frank, and she had to cover her own mouth as she saw what Zollner was doing to him. That man was sick.

She ducked back out of the room before Zollner or Leather Jacket could see her. She hid, waiting until the door opened again and they passed by her hallway. She let them get out of sight and earshot before she ran back to the hidden room.

She rushed to Frank's side, wincing when she saw the damage Zollner had done. “Frank?”

He lifted his head and frowned at her. “Nancy?”

“You are such a mess,” she said, not sure she wanted to see any more of his wounds. What was visible now was bad enough, and she didn't know how he was still alive with some of them. True, they weren't in fatal places, but they were deep and looked infected. “What did they do to you?”

“Easier to ask what they didn't do,” Frank told her. “Much shorter list. They... If... Pulling the IV worked, then... you have to get out of here. Go.”

Nancy shook her head. She didn't know what he meant by the IV remark, but it sounded like she owed him her current freedom. “Not without you. I can't leave you to—”

“They always drug me when they leave,” Frank said, and she could hear that in his voice. “Already can't feel half my body. Can't run. Can't... Zollner has a twin. And another brother. I think. Not sure on him. Know there is a twin. They... brainwashed... same personality... Killed lawyer—”

“Frank, stop,” Nancy said, trying to get herself under him. She had to get him on his feet and moving before that drug really kicked in. “You can tell me later. We can get you out of—”

“No... time.” Frank's words were so slurred she almost couldn't understand him. She winced. She was not going to be able to get him out of here if he was unconscious. She couldn't lift that much weight. She knew that. She wasn't a superhero, and she couldn't count on adrenaline to get them through this. “Third brother... Leather Jack...”

“I know,” she assured him. She didn't know about the brothers, but she did know about Leather Jacket. “Come on, please try and stay with me. Just a little bit longer. We can get out of here. I think I found the right way through this maze he's created.”

“Movie... studio.”

Nancy could see that, after all she'd wandered through just to get here. “That makes sense, too, but Frank, you have to stay awake—”

“Can't. Sorry.” He fell on her, and she held him, sighing. She didn't know what to do now. She knew where she thought the exit was, but she'd never get him there. She tried to think of somewhere she might be able to reach where she could hide him, but that was a long shot as well.

“Damn it.” She wasn't about to leave him, but she couldn't protect him, either. She had to think of something. Fast.

* * *

“Vallin is one of forty-seven different aliases this guy has gone by,” Joe said, reading off the list in disgust. He should have been relieved to be out of the hospital and back home, able to move around a bit and do something, but this wasn't enough. He had a file, but it didn't help. Everyone was gathered around, but he didn't have a game plan or anything new to tell them. He was still stuck. “Somehow he's managed to keep himself from being photographed or destroying the photos after the fact, but he's good at keeping off the radar.”

Fenton put a hand on Joe's shoulder. “You knew it wouldn't be easy, even with a name. Zollner was buried under more than a hundred shell companies and two hundred more aliases before your brother found him. It was sheer stubbornness on Frank's part. Anyone else would have stopped long before they hit that point.”

Joe nodded. He still hated it, though. “I wanted Vallin to be the last piece we needed, but all he is—he's just a bunch of names, and even the FBI isn't sure he used all of them. He's wanted for murders and all sorts of other crimes, but he's more of a ghost than Zollner is.”

“At least Callie was able to confirm that Vallin was the guy working with Albright,” Bess said, and next to her, George nodded. She still looked tired from her flight in, but she'd apparently refused to stay behind when Nancy was missing, and Joe didn't blame her. Around the room were more of his and Frank's friends, all here waiting for word or something to do. Joe just wished he had it to give to them. “Ned said he'd never met the guy.”

George grimaced. “No, he _lied_ about never seeing the guy.”

“George!”

“No, Bess,” George insisted. “I'm not trying to make Ned the villain here. I know he's not. I know he didn't want to attack Nancy—I'm not sure he didn't want to attack Frank—but I know what I heard and what I saw when Carson asked him about it. Ned was lying. He shut down and answered like a robot. I'm pretty sure he knew a lot more about this Vallin guy than he said, but his programming won't let him tell us.”

Joe tried to stand only to have his father push him back in the chair with a pointed look. He was still supposed to be resting even if he was out of the hospital. “Are you sure, George?”

She nodded. “Bess was probably too tired to recognize it, but it was almost the same way he lies when he says he's not bothered by Nancy letting him down. It was definitely a lie. I'm not sure it will help you—you talked to Callie. She can't remember her time with Zollner any more than Ned remembers this guy.”

“Doesn't mean we can't talk to him again,” Chet said, and the other guys nodded in agreement. Joe glanced toward his father. He wasn't sure letting any of his friends talk to Ned was a good idea.

“Someone can try again,” Fenton agreed. “We're not giving up on any avenue that can help us find Frank. Or Nancy. We just have to be careful. We don't want to trip Ned or Callie's programming, and we don't know that those two are the only ones that Zollner or Vallin got to.”

“I actually think it's more likely that he got to a lot more of us,” George said, and Bess elbowed her, but she ignored it. “There were better choices for getting close to Frank or Nancy than Ned or Callie, and we all know it. I'm not saying things no one knows. Joe is the better choice for manipulating Frank. That's something _none_ of us can deny, so why is Joe free when Nancy isn't? When Callie and Ned are the ones under guard in psych wards?”

Joe grimaced. “I agree. George is right. I just can't sit around worrying about how I might be a ticking time bomb now, though. First I need to find Frank. And Nancy, since I assume she's where he is. Vallin is our only lead right now, and since he's mostly just a bunch of names—”

“But names get used for a lot of things,” Bess said. “Can't we track that?”

Fenton shook his head. “We already tried tying Vallin and his aliases to properties. That didn't work.”

“What about... cars? Even just rentals? The guy had to move around somehow, and I don't think he had a vehicle every time. Maybe he stole one—is there a pattern to thefts in the area? Or something?” George ran her hand through her hair. “Sorry. I think I'm grasping at straws now.”

“No, you're not. You've got a point. We didn't find anything in his name, but checking rentals or thefts around the same time as his activities just might be what we need,” Joe told her. Then he grimaced. “Frank would have thought of that days ago.”

“No one expects you to be Frank, and you have been pretty busy, what with getting stabbed and then being in a car accident. You're tough, Joe, but even tough guys need a break when they're hurting.”

Joe nodded. “Okay, fine. Let's just get to work on trying to find out where Vallin might have gone.”

* * *

The trouble with dragging Frank anywhere was that he left a trail. He didn't intend to—he was still unconscious, after all—but Nancy knew that she was practically leaving a map behind for Zollner or his men to follow, since she was struggling with Frank's weight and he was still bleeding despite her best efforts to cover all the wounds. She didn't have a first aid kit, and most of Frank's clothes had apparently been torn in his last session with Zollner, so she had made do with the few scraps she found around and a few pieces from the clothes she'd borrowed from the fake mall. If she was headed anywhere near that place, she'd make sure she got something for Frank, but not only was the mall on the opposite side from where she believed the exit was, there was no good cover there.

And she had to have a place to hide Frank until the drugs wore off enough for him to move on his own. She hated asking him to after what she could see he'd been through, but she was almost out of steam herself, and carrying him was not working very well.

“Come on, Frank. They had to have been planning on coming back to you soon enough. It can't have been that long lasting of a dose,” she said, leaning against the wall and buckling under him even as she tried to keep them both upright.

Of course, now that she thought about it, it made more sense that they'd just use a different drug to wake Frank when they came back for him. The whole thing would keep him disoriented—he wouldn't be able to tell the time—and unable to fight because of the mix of drugs in his system, which were also likely to have mind-altering effects or just leave him more vulnerable to suggestion.

She adjusted Frank's position, taking him mostly on her back, and started moving again. She had to get to shelter before they realized he was gone and came looking for them. She hadn't gotten far enough away yet, and if she didn't manage it soon, they'd get caught for sure.

She refused to let that happen. Frank had suffered enough because of Zollner.

* * *

Frank woke to darkness and reached out in a blind panic, trying to orient himself. He was used to the all white room with no distinguishing features or the bedroom they'd given him temporarily when they thought he'd buy their little song and dance about his father and brother dying and him given in. Those places had light. One he'd say was blindingly lit, and the other normal, like he should have believed he was free because he acquiesced.

This was... dark. Completely dark, and he had no idea how he'd gotten here.

“Nancy?” His throat had dried up so badly the word almost didn't come out, and he wished he could get some water or something. He felt like he might puke all over again. That was probably the drugs but at this point he wasn't sure of much.

No answer. Not even from Zollner.

Damn it. Frank must have imagined the whole damn thing. He hadn't done anything when he pulled that IV, and now he was in for another round of mind games and torture. He didn't know if what he'd done had gotten Nancy hurt or killed, and he wasn't sure how well he'd stand up to Zollner this time, not when he already felt so weak.

He curled up against himself and closed his eyes, trying to prepare in what little way he could for what he knew was coming. He couldn't move, so he couldn't get out of here, wherever here was, and he just had to find a way to resist Zollner until he changed tactics again.

Frank wasn't sure he could. He'd had hope last time, though, and this time he didn't.


	32. Not Quite a Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe gambles on a long shot. Nancy gambles on an exit. Frank gets further lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I managed to sneak in one more update before work. My at home project for work looks terrible, admittedly, but I got it done earlier than anticipated today, and so I sat down to finish the update I started last night, and I got it done.
> 
> Okay, people will now say it does not actually get much done, but I feel better for completing it, so I'm just going to go with that.

* * *

“Talk about long shot on top of long shot,” Joe grumbled, and George took her eyes off the road just long enough to glare at him before returning to what she needed to concentrate on. He'd been banned from driving—somehow he wasn't sure it was the knife wounds or the last accident that had gotten his driving privileges revoked, though his father wasn't allowed behind the wheel, either. George had gotten that role, since she and Bess ended up with him and his father, a sort of mixed rescue party combined of those who knew both victims. Funny, Joe thought, most of his friends didn't know Nancy half as well as Joe and Frank knew Bess and George.

That was something they'd have to work on, but it would wait for later, after he got his brother back. Once Frank was safe, they could figure out so many other things—helping Ned and Callie and anyone else who might be brainwashed was at the top of that list—but first they had to get Frank back.

“You didn't have to come,” George said, and he snorted. Like that was even an option.

“I know I said it's a long shot, but it's our long shot, and so far it's the closest I've felt to finding Frank. I won't turn my back on that now, not for anything,” Joe told her. He shrugged. “I know I'm a little grumpy, but you know how I feel. I mean, Nancy's not your sister, but you care about her enough to where you know what I'm going through.”

“She does,” Bess agreed. “And it's not like we're not worried about Frank, too. Frank, and a lot of other people, though most of them aren't in the same kind of danger.”

“We are going to have to find a good way of seeing if any of the rest of us have been programmed in any way,” George agreed. She shook her head. “I can't think of when it might have happened to me, but Ned didn't think it was possible for him, and it clearly was.”

“We'd have to find someone we could trust more than Albright,” Fenton muttered from the back seat. Joe looked back at his dad. Holding a grudge was usually what he did, not his father or Frank, and if anyone should be blaming Albright for what Callie did to him, it should be Joe, right? He should be the angry, unreasonable one.

Joe forced himself not to think about that being possible programming on his father's part. They weren't assuming anyone else had it. They weren't ruling it out, but going around on eggshells waiting to trigger someone—anyone—was ridiculous as well. “We'll find someone. Maybe we should look into foreign experts, since it's a lot less likely that Zollner got to any of them.”

“Maybe,” Fenton said, and Joe made a mental note to ask Frank what he thought about that idea when they got him back. Of anyone, Frank still had the best sense of Zollner's operation and its reach, even if he'd underestimated it before, more than once. Now, though... he might know far too much about it.

“How much further is it?” Joe asked, thinking he should have put the whole thing into the GPS. Then again, that made it more real, and it wasn't all that real. It was a long shot on top of a long shot. They'd narrowed down rental cars and stolen vehicles and then found a common destination between them, but they had no way of knowing for sure that Vallin or anyone was using rentals.

They just assumed he was because nothing was showing up under known aliases or shell companies, and that assumption could be very, very wrong.

Still, Joe wanted to do as much as they could to find Frank, and if that meant wasting their time with a flawed theory, he was going to try it, since he didn't have a better plan.

“Not that far. We should see it soon,” George said, her hands tightening on the wheel. “So I guess it's about time to discuss what we're going to do when we get there.”

“What's to discuss?” Bess asked, leaning forward to the driver's seat. “We go in, we look for Nancy and Frank, and if they're not there, we leave.”

“For one,” Fenton began, almost amused, “it's private property. We have no grounds to search it, no warrant or authority. We don't know what they're doing on this lot or if it actually belongs to Zollner. If it does, we may have found more pieces, but that doesn't mean it's where Frank or Nancy is. Also, we should expect Zollner—or even another more ordinary citizen—to have security on the property. We need to be prepared for that. We might have to watch and wait for a while, consider our options before storming the castle. If we could see Vallin or anyone else we know we can connect to Zollner, then we know we should attempt to get inside—and what we'll be up against to get in.”

“Yes, but... how long are we going to wait?” Bess asked. She shook her head. “None of us is going to be patient for long. We'd rather risk trespassing charges or worse if it meant getting them back.”

“An hour at the most,” Joe said. “Dad might have more patience than that, but I sure as hell don't.”

* * *

Nancy tried and failed not to hate herself.

Logically, she'd made the only choice she _could_ make, since she couldn't drag Frank another step, but that didn't make her feel any better. She felt guilty, and she should. She'd left him behind. She'd done what she could to find a place where he would be safe enough—as safe as she could hope for in this strange world Zollner had created, since Frank was far from the room she'd found him, hidden out of sight as close to the exit as she could get him—but it wasn't enough. She should have been able to get him out. Or she should have stayed with him.

She'd gambled on taking the exit, hoping that if she did, she'd find some way to contact the others, but she didn't know that she'd do anything at all. She could end up getting them both caught, and that would ruin everything. She didn't know that she had any other choice, though. If she couldn't get help, she couldn't get them free. She wasn't being unrealistic here—she just didn't have enough strength to drag Frank all the way to the door.

And she hadn't actually been sure that it was the right door. She was risking a lot on that, too, since she couldn't guarantee that it was. She'd wandered around long enough to make that assumption, but then the room Frank had been in had a hidden door, so why shouldn't the exit be hidden more than the one she'd chosen?

Nancy rubbed her head, grimacing. If she gave away to doubt now, she'd never manage to get them out of here, and she had to, since she knew of no way that the others could find them, and Frank _was_ in bad shape. 

She looked back toward the way she'd come, tempted to go back to where he was. She could at least be there in case he woke up, and then maybe he could manage to walk some of the distance with her help. They would escape.

She shook her head. She didn't know how long it would take him to come around from the drugs he'd been given, and she should test this door before she tried to make him walk. No point in hurting him further if it wouldn't even get them outside. And if she _did_ get them out, where would they go after that? He wouldn't be up to walking miles from wherever they were, and she wasn't, either. She was just about out of juice, and she might have to stop herself after she double-checked the exit. She could go back and get some rest by Frank's side, though it would be difficult to keep herself awake when she should be keeping watch. She was just too tired.

She forced herself on, knowing her feet were developing blisters. Her back ached and might even be out of place. She wouldn't complain, not if it meant freeing them, but she couldn't deny that she was feeling it now.

She stopped, putting her hands on her back and trying to adjust it a little. A few breaths later and she was back walking again. She had too much ground to cross to stay in one place for long. She was doing this for Frank, not just herself, and any temptation to give up or wait longer was tempered by that knowledge.

If Zollner got hold of them again—No, she refused to think about that. She had to get to that door, and as soon as she was outside it, then she could start thinking about more than just reaching it. She'd have to figure out her next step, but at the moment, it was more important to keep one foot in front of the other rather than risk getting overwhelmed and discouraged.

She found the door and pushed it open, stepping into the bright light of day with a wince. She would have thought it would be night outside—she'd almost hope for it, since being seen out here was not the best thing that could happen—it was more likely they'd be seen by the people they were going to escape rather than anyone who might help them.

She let her eyes adjust to the sun, still uncertain if she was outside or not. That cemetery had been too good at faking the outdoors. Yes, she knew the grass there hadn't been natural, and the light, too, wasn't quite right, but it was close enough to where it could have fooled someone else—like Frank, who had been drugged.

She shivered, running her hands over her arms and looking around. Empty lot after empty lot greeted her, almost mocking her with their presence. She couldn't see anywhere to go, anywhere to get help, or anywhere to hide.

She closed her eyes, leaning back against the wall. Some escape this was, not a rescue at all.

* * *

_“Look at all that you can see, Franklin. Gaze upon it and understand what I am actually giving you, all that you can have and all you can achieve with it,” Zollner said, speaking almost right in Frank's ear as he did. His hand swept out to gesture to the table, and Frank could only stare at it as it moved, feeling dizzy again. “Of course, it's only a model, and it doesn't quite come close to offering you all the kingdoms in the world—”_

_“Except for the part about the deal with the devil,” Frank interrupted, gagging as Zollner laughed right in his ear._

_“These are my holdings, ones that will be yours later,” Zollner went on, and from the strange sound of it, Frank had to wonder if both of them were in the room. “These are ones you did not know about when you were searching for me before.”_

_Frank winced. That had to be an exaggeration. This wasn't possible. No way Zollner had held onto that much property and assets after his arrest. They would have been found and seized._

_“I particularly like this one,” Zollner said, back in Frank's ear again. “Once you fully accept things as they are, this is where we will call home.”_

Frank jerked, bumping into something he couldn't see as he did. He curled up against himself and bit back on any possible outcry. He didn't need to let anyone know where he was—not that he knew, but if he wasn't in with Zollner, he didn't feel like telling that man he was awake for it to start all over again. Not after that one.

He didn't understand. He didn't remember that moment—it seemed like one that would have happened in when Frank supposedly capitulated and went along with what Zollner wanted, but that hadn't happened. It wasn't real. He knew it wasn't.

Except... he didn't remember that moment. Not in any other lucid time he'd had, and he was almost certain that both twins were there. If they were, if they had been talking to him, then it would have to have been after the prison escape, the one that supposedly killed his father and Joe.

Was it possible none of that was a lie?

No, it all had to be a lie. He couldn't allow himself to think otherwise. If he did, he should just give up now and let Zollner have what he wanted.

He heard something nearby and jumped again, tensing up and holding still against the wall or whatever it was behind him. He didn't last long before the trembling overtook him. Someone was definitely moving toward him.

And there was nothing he could do to stop them.


	33. Last Second Complications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe finds someone outside the building. He thinks it's the break he needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the migraine that took me out after work (during work, actually) decided to be three day. I thought it was gone last night, this morning it proved me wrong, but I was able to get some writing done when it eased off, and so I have this new chapter to offer. I still feel horrible, and I'm not sure about future updates, though it was my goal to do as many as I could while health permitted. I'm just... not sure what it's permitting just yet.

* * *

“I see something,” Joe said, leaning against the car door, trying to get a better look out the window. He had only seen it for second, and he couldn't be sure of what it was, but he had seen something. He knew he had. “I need to get closer.”

“Joe, you haven't given us the hour yet,” his father said, shaking his head. “And we still don't know what might be out there or what kind of security this place has. You can't just assume that it will all be fine if you go in there. It's more likely to _not_ be, and you're already injured. You shouldn't go off on your own.”

Joe knew, on some level, his father was right, and he knew he could be walking right into a trap, but he didn't think he could stay still one minute longer. He'd said an hour, but an hour was already too much. He wasn't going to be able to stay put, not when the answer he needed was right out there. “Sorry, Dad, but if that is what we need to find Frank, I have to go see. It won't take me very long, even injured, and it's not like I don't have backup. You'll know soon enough if this is a good or bad thing, and then you can come rescue me—though you shouldn't need to.”

“Joe—”

He was out and shutting the door on the three voices speaking his name before they'd finished. Ha. He wasn't that slow, not with his injuries, though they did hurt after the speed he'd just forced them through in getting out of the car. He ignored it, starting at the same pace toward the building. He knew he'd seen movement over to the side, and if he only managed to confirm a guard, that was enough.

Well, no, it would be enough when he'd taken the guard out and demanded to know where his brother was, but that was almost the same thing, wasn't it?

He went up to the side of the building, and if not for the small warning he'd got of something rushing at him, he might have been out cold. As it was, he almost went down as he was hit in the side, unbalancing him and leaving him to grab hold of his attacker to stay upright. “Hey. Watch it.”

“Joe?”

He finished steadying both of them and stopped to get a good look. Sure, it did seem like her—fiery hair, stubborn blue eyes, beautiful despite the torn clothes and weary posture—but then again, did he dare trust that? How had she gotten free? Was she... turned now, like the others? “Nancy?”

She looked around, swallowing. “Is this some kind of—I know that it must be. It has to be a dream. I must have been drugged somehow. I'm not outside, and you're not here. That would make this rescue way too easy and nothing with Zollner has been easy and—”

“Calm down,” Joe interrupted. “Tell me where Frank is. If you know—you do know, don't you?”

Nancy eyed him with a frown. “I—I don't know that I can tell you. What if I was wrong about everything? What if I am still drugged and you're not really Joe but working for Zollner? If I tell you where I hid Frank, then Zollner gets him back and I swore I wouldn't let that happen.”

“I won't let it happen, either,” Joe insisted. “Nancy, it's me. I would never do anything to hurt Frank. I don't doubt it's hard to accept it, but we did find a way of possibly connecting one of Zollner's associates to this place. Leather Jacket, remember him? He was apparently 'assisting' Albright as a guy named Vallin, and we were able to track Vallin to this place by the records on his rental vehicle.”

Nancy put a hand through her hair, moving away from Joe. “He is here. Leather Jacket—Vallin—is here. I saw him earlier, with Zollner, before I was able to get to Frank. He's the one who kidnapped me. They're working together—Frank said he thought that Vallin was a third brother.”

“Third?”

Nancy nodded. “Zollner is a twin. One of two with the same personality, or so I think Frank tried to tell me. He was really incoherent when I got to him, but he did try and tell me some of what he knew, but he didn't manage much before he passed out.”

“Just tell me—us—where Frank is. We can do the rest.”

“Oh, yes, Miss Drew. Tell us where Franklin is.”

Joe turned at the sound of the voice, face-to-face with Leather Jacket—Vallin—for the first time. Or maybe it was face-to-barrel, since the jerk had a gun. Damn.

* * *

“I won't tell you,” Nancy said, and Joe looked toward her. She knew it was crazy—the likelihood of any of them getting out of here was slim, not when Zollner had homeground advantage as well as more men, most of them armed—but the idea of cooperating wasn't one she could accept, either. Giving them Frank was giving in, and she wouldn't do it.

“Oh, I think you will,” Vallin said, pointing the gun right at her. She swallowed, trying to tell herself not to panic. She didn't want to do anything that would get herself or anyone else hurt. Joe wouldn't have come alone—he couldn't have—and the others with him had to be getting closer, didn't they?

“You kidnapped me, drugged me, and I don't even know what else you might have done, but you don't scare me. All you've proved is that you're willing to hurt me and my friends, and that means that I would be stupid to give one of them into your hands,” Nancy said, shaking her head. “I am not telling you where Frank is.”

“If you are going to be stubborn...” Vallin began, and Nancy realized what he intended just a second after Joe did. He pushed her out of the way as the gun went off. They both fell, with Joe half on top of her.

“You idiot,” she whispered as she pushed against him and found blood. Wasn't it enough he'd already gotten stabbed trying to save his brother? Why did Joe have to take a bullet for her? She wasn't worth it, and he knew it, judging by what he'd said at Debries' house.

“Pity,” Vallin said, looking down at Joe, and she tried to ignore him as she put pressure on the wound, “but perhaps your brother will be more cooperative if confronted by the confirmation of your death. Not how we planned it, but one must make do. Now for you, Miss Drew...”

Her distraction allowed him to pull her up by the arm, and she found the gun next to her head for his next speech.

“I am sure you are all very concerned about Joseph over here,” Vallin said, and she managed to see some of her friends and the boys' before he put pressure on the gun and forced her head to the side. “In that case, you'll stay where you are until we have departed, and then you may see to him. After all, it is not that we _want_ him dead. He is just so stubborn and foolish about his need to be heroic. All Miss Drew needed was the proper persuasion, after all.”

She swallowed, knowing she needed more of a plan than trying to disarm Vallin right now. She'd already managed to get Joe shot, so she couldn't risk that happening with anyone else. She looked right at Bess and George.

“Just... take care of Joe,” Nancy told them. “I... I don't actually think he wants to hurt me. We're all some part of the larger plan here, and besides—they still want me to tell them where Frank is.”

“Nancy!” Bess called out, but Vallin had jerked her with him back inside. He shoved her to the floor, and she hit hard, knocking the wind out of her and buying him the time to lock the door behind him. She sat up to face the gun again.

“You are brave. And stubborn. Actually a near perfect match for the chosen heir, but if you think you can defy me again—”

“I won't tell you where Frank is,” Nancy insisted. “So I guess you'll have to shoot me.”

Vallin smiled at her. “Strange—I almost think you want that. Like it is something you can have to prove you outlasted everyone and that it somehow atones for your other betrayals. I doubt that, but if you want that delusion, I suppose I could help it along...”

She didn't have a chance to dodge, to move at all, before the bullet hit. She clutched her side, biting her lip to keep back the outcry. If Frank heard that—no, he'd get caught and they'd all have been hurt for nothing.

“Relax,” Vallin said, leaning over her. “I made sure not to hit anything fatal. And I'm a doctor, so I can patch that all up—though I will need an answer to my question first.”

* * *

“The door's locked,” George reported, giving it another futile pound before turning back to the others clustered around Joe. “We are not getting in that way. Please tell me someone called the proper authorities. I know I didn't. I was too distracted by seeing Nancy, and then Joe got shot...”

Bess nodded, expression grim. “Same boat. I didn't think about the important stuff, just that if it was Nancy, I wanted to get to her and make sure she was okay and... and not some zombie Zollner had created somehow.”

“Don't think... she was...” Joe said, his word coming out labored as he bit back a reaction to the pain. “She wouldn't... even tell... me... where she... hid Frank. Don't think that... programming.”

“No, if she was programmed, she'd have told him right away,” Fenton agreed, looking at the door. He glanced toward the others. “Well, depending on the door, you might be able to take it down with brute force, but there's no guarantee of that. We need more information, a better strategy...”

“I think we should start by getting Joe away from here,” Bess said, giving the door another glance. “Maybe there's another entrance, but we won't find it here, and Joe needs a hospital. Again.”

“I'm fine,” Joe protested, though he sounded weak. “I just... need a minute... catch my breath...”

“Don't be an idiot,” Bess said, and George had to smile. This time, at least, her cousin was doing more than bantering with Joe. Their mutual flirting could get old sometimes, and she'd hate to think Bess would fall for the Hardy charm now, of all times, when he needed medical attention no one could give him here.

“There's... first aid kit... in... car,” Joe began. “We can get that—”

“And there could be a bunch of goons about to come through this door here, and we have no way of knowing that,” George said, folding her arms over her chest. She looked to his friends. She wasn't sure which one of them she was addressing, though she thought maybe that one was Biff. “Can you get him back to the car? We'll do what we can to patch him up there, and then... some of us can split off and look for another entrance. We'll just have to be careful.”

“Can do,” the friend agreed, giving her a winning smile, and she smiled back, ignoring the look Bess gave her. It wasn't what she was thinking at all.

George let the guys move Joe, thinking they would be better at keeping him level as they did. Fenton followed, clearly worried, and George prodded Bess forward after them.

“We can start around the building, you know.”

“Yes, but I think we should wait until we know who is going with us,” George said. She rolled her eyes. “And not because I was just flirting with one of them. Haven't you grown out of that boy crazy phase of yours yet?”

Bess grinned. “I don't know that it's possible.”

George shook her head, jogging up to join the others at the car. They'd gotten Joe situated in the front seat, and Fenton had the first aid kit.

“We have to... get back... there,” Joe said, trying to push the hands helping him away. “Now.”

“You're not going anywhere,” his father insisted. “Just stay where you are. We'll find a way to get into Frank and Nancy. You just have to be patient.”

“Patience isn't... strong point,” Joe reminded him, and his father would have laughed had the building behind them not exploded.


	34. Plans Foiled and Otherwise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened just before the explosion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am again going to thank everyone who sent well wishes to me after the migraine. I was still feeling a little off today, and my manager said she thought I had a cold. I kind of rolled my eyes since I don't think I do. I am just having the worst week I've ever had for migraines and their surrounding circumstances, that's all.
> 
> Anyway, this part of the plot is partially owing to the migraine. It might not work, I suppose, but it seemed to be semi-plausible, and it was the best I could do after my plot got away from me last chapter and injured Joe again, which wasn't quite what I was planning.

* * *

“We have to get in there!” Joe shouted, trying to push against his father and everyone else trying to deal with his wound. Bess winced, seeing more blood coming from where they were trying to keep pressure on it. They couldn't lose him, too, not now.

“No.”

“But Frank and Nancy are in there and—”

“And the building just exploded,” Fenton said, voice full of pain and resignation as he spoke. He looked back at the building like he'd just been gutted, and Bess wasn't sure that wasn't an accurate description of what had just happened. Frank was dead now, wasn't he? And so was Nancy.

Their friends were dead. They'd been so close to finding them, rescuing them, and ending all of this torment, but now... Now it was all gone. In an instant, that quick flash and boom, and just over. She didn't understand. She didn't want to believe it, but she could see the building burning in front of her. She knew what that meant.

Her friends were dead.

It was over.

* * *

“You needn't torment her for that answer any longer,” Zollner observed, sounding amused. “I actually found him some time ago, so you see, my dear Miss Drew, you've suffered to no purpose.”

Nancy choked on her reply and tears that wanted to come out. She didn't know if it was the pain or just losing to this bastard—again—but she was raw and close to the edge. She couldn't keep her reaction in, not when she was bleeding through the pressure she was trying to keep on her side and well aware of the fact that Zollner wasn't lying.

He did have Frank.

Frank didn't seem to be aware of that fact, which made Nancy assume he'd been drugged—again—and she almost swore because even if there was any hope of disarming Vallin and taking out the other two—she was seeing twins, if not double—she couldn't get him out of here in his state. Or in hers. She'd barely managed what she did earlier, and now she'd been shot.

“This location has been compromised,” Vallin said. “Not only did she escape, but somehow the others found it. And Joseph managed to get himself injured again. I swear that young man must have a death wish.”

“Only because you tried to shoot me out there,” Nancy hissed, wishing she could do more than spit words at him. For all he'd said the wound wasn't fatal and he would fix it, he'd done nothing, and she was starting to feel like she would die. “If you hadn't done that, Joe would have been fine. Now he might die. And you claim that ruins your plans.”

“It does,” Zollner agreed. “However, Joseph has bought us the necessary time, and we must use it. The self-destruct has been activated. We must leave, now.”

“Self-destruct?” Nancy heard herself ask. She shouldn't have been surprised to hear that Zollner had prepared for that eventuality, too. He would have rigged his funhouse to explode. It made such twisted sense. He wanted to control everything, and that meant he wouldn't leave anything behind for them.

He didn't have any intention of letting the authorities catch him this time. Last time, he had permitted it, but Nancy was sure that was all part of his game. He'd wanted it that way, wanted to use it to mess with Frank, and it had worked, all too well. He'd been a mess even before Zollner took him again, and now... She didn't think he understood any of what was going on, not with the way he'd looked right at her without any kind of comprehension.

She didn't know what to do. Without Frank, she had no hope of escaping—she didn't even have much of one with him—but she didn't know that she could get his attention or pull him out of the drug-induced fog he was under now. She couldn't hope to organize anything with him like that, and even if he wasn't drugged, they were right in the middle of Zollner and Vallin.

“Get her to the vehicle. The detonation will commence shortly.”

“You're not going to get away. They'll be back before you can load us up, and they'll see you leave,” Nancy said as Vallin dragged her up to her feet. She cried out, unable to stop herself because of the pain. She tried to pull herself free, but blood loss was making her weak. She stumbled, and Vallin more or less carried her forward.

“You overestimate their capabilities. Oh, I feel certain that Joseph will eventually uncover this passage, since he will never accept that you or Franklin are dead, but by then, we will have long since left the area and be once again untraceable.”

“They found you once,” Nancy pointed out. “They will find you again.”

“Oh, perhaps,” Zollner agreed, smiling, “but by then, I do believe we will be ready for Joseph, as by then Franklin will have assumed his role as heir. And you... you will also be under my control.”

* * *

Frank felt Zollner tug him by the arm, and he let himself be pulled along, not attempting to free himself. He did not know how well his latest plan—latest exercise in futility, he supposed—would work, but he had no other recourse. He had to try it. Once Zollner had found him again, Frank had little choice but to go with him, prompting the last ditch plan he'd created, which was to play like he was too drugged to have any comprehension of what was going on.

He wasn't sure how good an actor he was, but it seemed to be working, somehow. He must have been under the influence of something, though he didn't remember Zollner injecting him again. It didn't matter, though he didn't know that he would have managed to stay unresponsive when he saw Leather Jacket shoot Nancy or when he heard them say Joe had been shot as well.

Frank just knew that he had to make them think that he was not a threat. He didn't feel like one, but he knew that he might be able to use surprise against them. He just needed an opportunity, but he didn't know when that would come, not with the others armed and him with nothing. He didn't actually know that he would be able to do anything with surprise even if he could find a small way in.

Zollner looked at Leather Jacket. “Joseph has bought us the necessary time, and we must use it. The self-destruct has been activated. We must leave, now.”

“Self-destruct?” Nancy repeated. Frank figured it was just shock from the bullet wound talking. It made far too much sense for Zollner to have a self-destruct in his base. He was a megalomaniac, and he would have a self-destruct. He would have a contingency plan. He'd have all that and more. He'd allowed himself to be captured before, and he'd treated it all as part of a long-term strategy, one giant mind game, and he could be doing it now, though it might also be that he just wouldn't allow himself to be taken a second time. He wanted to escape.

He wanted to take Frank—and Nancy, he assumed—with him. Frank knew he had to stop that from happening, but he didn't know how. Surprise was only a valid option when there was something he could _do_ with it, and he didn't know what that was.

“Get her to the vehicle. The detonation will commence shortly.”

Nancy shook her head. “You're not going to get away. They'll be back before you can load us up, and they'll see you leave.”

Zollner laughed. “You overestimate their capabilities. Oh, I feel certain that Joseph will eventually uncover this passage, since he will never accept that you or Franklin are dead, but by then, we will have long since left the area and be once again untraceable.”

Frank had a sick feeling that Zollner's prediction would be accurate unless he could do something. He had to stop them from being taken out that escape hatch. He did not know how, but he couldn't allow them to be taken. Not now.

“They found you once. They will find you again.”

Frank had to stop himself from smiling at Nancy's declaration. He wanted to have that kind of confidence, and he knew she was right about one thing—if Joe survived, he would keep looking. The only trouble was that if this building exploded with them supposedly still in it, almost everyone else would give up, and Joe would have to do it on his own.

And he'd already been shot.

That wasn't even the biggest problem. Frank knew how close he'd come to breaking, more than once, and he didn't know that he could survive much more of it, especially not with them having Nancy for leverage. If they hurt her again because of him, if they tried to do to her what they'd done to Callie...

Zollner smiled. “Oh, perhaps, but by then, I do believe we will be ready for Joseph, as by then Franklin will have assumed his role as heir. And you... you will also be under my control.”

Nancy spat at him, but it lacked force, and she sagged back against Leather Jacket, looking like she might lose consciousness. Frank felt himself get pushed forward, and h let it happen, needing that door to open. One thing he'd overlooked earlier was that if he didn't let them get closer to Zollner's escape route, they'd die. So whatever he did had to be after he knew where that was—or was on the other side of it. If he could just... Yes, he had an idea. He didn't know if he could pull it off, but he did think he had a bit more of a plan now.

He saw the opening as the escape route was revealed, and Leather Jacket went first, carrying Nancy into the tunnel. Frank hoped he could make this look real, though in all honesty, with as much pain as he was now starting to feel past the drugs, he figured it wasn't too much of a stretch. He let himself falter and then fall, since he wasn't being held up.

Zollner swore, and the twins stopped to try and pry him up. Frank let his body go completely limp, trying to keep himself weighted down. The more it took to get him up, the more frantic they'd get, and really, if he just kept them from escaping and doing all this again, it had to be worth it.

“Come on now, Franklin. You were moving just fine a moment ago.”

“I could have told you that giving him so many drugs would become an issue,” Leather Jacket muttered, and Frank thought he was doubling back toward them. Good. That was better than he'd hoped for. “You're lucky he was on his feet for as long as he was, given the lack of awareness he was displaying. I don't think he heard one word of that conversation.”

“We have to get out of here,” Zollner hissed impatiently. “The whole building is about to explode. Yes, the detonations begin on the other side, but they will reach here soon enough—in a matter of seconds.”

“I know that,” Leather Jacket agreed as the building shook with the first explosion, loosening dirt and debris above their heads. All three of them ducked their heads to avoid dust in their eyes, and Frank made his move, throwing himself into a roll forward down the tunnel.

His leg caught on something as he went down, and he felt the barely scabbed over scar tear open again. The building quaked a second time, and rubble hit him in the back, knocking him down. All he could see above him was rock, and below him was darkness.

He didn't bother trying to move. _Frying pan, meet fire,_ he thought, just before he lost consciousness for real.


	35. Trapped Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe gets taken to the hospital. Frank wakes up, but it might still be too late for both him and Nancy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I think Phil is probably OOC even though he's got one speaking part. *sigh*
> 
> Also, it's late (early) and I should probably rethink posting at this time, but I did read it over and reorganize it, and hey, I didn't do quite the evil cliffhanger I could have.
> 
> I even made fun of myself in here a little. So, there is all of that to enjoy, perhaps.

* * *

“Frank is in there,” Joe insisted, his eyes not leaving the building despite the emergency personnel crowding him. He didn't know how he could make it any clearer—they were not taking him to the hospital without his brother. “We have to get him out of there.”

“Son,” one of the officers began, and Joe glared at him past the paramedic, hating when anyone other than his father called him that, and even sometimes when Fenton did. “This may have been a rather controlled explosion, with minimal damage to the surrounding areas, but it was still an explosion. That building is rubble. Unstable at best, deadly in most cases. That means... Well, I'm sorry, but your brother is gone.”

Joe wished he could throw something at him. He looked around, trying to find something, but someone poked him where the bullet had hit, and he had to forget about revenge and deal with the pain. “Ow. Damn it. Stop that.”

“We need to get you to the hospital.”

“I'm not going without my brother,” Joe said, making an attempt to sit up and only getting a few inches. “Let me go. I'm not staying in here. I am going to find Frank.”

“Joe,” Fenton said, shaking his head. “You're being unreasonable. You've been shot. Even if the building was in a state that was safe to approach, you're not up to that. Please stop this. I've already lost one son today. Do not make it two.”

Joe groaned, leaning back on the stretcher. “Dad, he's not dead. I'd know if he was, and he isn't. W can't just _leave_ him here. He might need medical attention, too—of course he does. That sick freak had him. Or maybe Nancy got him away or—she was shot, too. Dad, if she's anywhere in there—she needs our help. We can't just abandon them.”

“We're not,” Fenton told him, “Some of us can stay here and see what we can do about getting closer, but you, Joe... You have to get to the hospital.”

“If we leave now, there might not be any chance later. Don't do this. Frank is alive, and we can find him,” Joe insisted. He reached over to swat the paramedic as the guy hit one of his other, still healing wounds. “Leave that alone. I'm fine. I just need to get to my brother. Look, I'm coherent. You can hear it in my voice. The drugs are nice. I'm talking better than I was before I got shot. I'm lucid, and I know what I want, and it is to get to my brother. Now.”

Fenton sighed. “You're being unreasonable and irresponsible, and do you really think that's what your brother would want? Frank is the logical one. The responsible one. If he were standing here right now, you know he'd be telling you that you couldn't wait for anyone inside there and to deal with this when you can actually stand—meaning _after_ you've gone to the hospital, seen the doctors, and had surgery. You need to do this. Frank would want you to do it. He would not want you killing yourself for him or because of him, so go to the damn hospital already. If you keep fighting them on this, I will inject you with a sedative myself. I am not doing this, do you hear me? I will not lose you and Frank. We will come back. We will search every inch of that goddamned rubble, and we will find your brother, but we are _not_ going to let you stay here a minute longer when you need medical attention. You're going. Now. End of discussion.”

And it was.

* * *

“Tell me they found him.”

Bess shook her head, exchanging a look with George, and Joe swore, hitting his hospital bed in frustration. He was two seconds and a huge dose of morphine away from yanking out his IV and jumping out of bed. He didn't want to be here, and they _knew_ that. They all knew, but they'd let him sit here and rot while his brother was out there somewhere, and no one had found him. This was wrong. All wrong. Frank would have come up with a way to stay and be of use finding Joe if their situations were reversed. He would. Joe knew that.

He'd been chucked off to the hospital, and now he was stuck here, stuck, and he couldn't do anything for Frank here. He knew no one would be willing to take him out of the hospital, not with all the scary machines he was hooked to.

“This is all wrong... I shouldn't be here. I should be where Frank is.”

“Yeah, someone definitely goofed on that one.”

Joe frowned, and George elbowed her cousin. Bess shrugged, like she didn't know where that had come from. Maybe she didn't. Maybe it was all this stress. “I can't believe I got shot. I can't believe I'm here. Dad read me the riot act earlier, but none of this feels real.”

“That would be the drugs,” George told him, pointing to the IV. “You're on good stuff. A lot of it. And I'm not surprised, not with as many times as you've been hurt. If anyone in your family was prone to hysterics, you'd have had a disaster on your hands when your mom and aunt heard about you getting hurt _again.”_

“Yeah,” he said, though he couldn't find much humor at the moment. He closed his eyes, letting out a breath. “There has to be a way. I know Frank would have found it. He'd know where to look.”

“I didn't know your brother had become psychic somehow in among all the rest of his skills,” Bess said. She shook her head. “I don't know that we'd find him without some kind of outside intervention. You really didn't see the damage that explosion—correction, _explosions_ —did to the place. It's bad there, Joe. It looks like a war zone. No one's been able to find anything in there.”

“Yeah, but you're searching with cadaver dogs or something stupid like that,” Joe said. He hit the bed with his fist. “Frank isn't dead. He can't be. We didn't get that close to lose him like that. It's not possible.”

“Here. At the risk of giving you something else to obsess over,” Phil began, and Joe looked over at him, surprised. He wasn't sure he'd said much of anything to the guy since Frank went missing, which was beyond wrong of him. “Um... It's not much, but you can look at the building plans here. I downloaded them the tablet. It'll give you something to do while you recover some more. Your aunt will kill me if she finds out—no one really liked my idea—but it's the only one I had.”

“Thanks,” Joe said, calling up the schematics. He didn't know that he could find anything, but he was going to try. It was a hell of a lot better than doing nothing.

* * *

Pain drew Frank up out of a fog he thought he wanted to stay in, but the flare from his leg was too intense to ignore, nothing he could sleep through and might not have been able to ignore even if h was still fully drugged. He groaned, pushing himself up to where he could get a better look at it.

He was bleeding. A lot, and even if it wasn't, he was almost certain that damned thing was infected. He grimaced. That wasn't something he wanted to think about right now, and he couldn't do anything about it anyway. He was going to have to go without, since he didn't have anything close to a first aid kit here, and what little attention had been given to his wounds must have been undone in that fall.

He sighed. That had not been the best of plans, and it was executed worse.

Wait. Nancy. She was shot. She was bleeding. She could already be dead.

Frank blinked, not sure where the light was coming from, but if this was their escape plan, there had to be something down here besides a small room, right? Zollner had said they would be far away by the time that Joe found them, and that meant a vehicle of some sort.

The idea of being behind the wheel in his current state was laughable at best, but Frank didn't necessarily need to drive. Maybe the car had something else he could use. A first aid kit would be great, and not just for him.

There. Nancy. Frank dragged himself over to her side. Leather Jacket had gotten her all the way down this ramp—he thought it was a ramp, it felt slanted to him—and left her out of the path of most of the rubble, which was something, though since she was already bleeding and almost unconscious—at least from what Frank had seen—not much.

He glanced back at the rock. Did the lack of other movement really mean he'd managed to get Zoller—both of them—and Leather Jacket stuck up there when the roof caved in on them? Did that mean... they were actually dead?

Frank didn't know what to think about that.

“Nancy?” Frank asked, leaning as close to her as he could, his body protesting the movement. Everything hurt anew, the band-aid from the drugs having been ripped painfully off and leaving all his wounds exposed and bleeding again. He knew he was exaggerating, but he had gotten knocked around pretty good in that fall.

She groaned, and he didn't think she wanted to be awake any more than he did. “I... Frank?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I think we are trapped underground at the moment. Zollner was talking about getting us out of the building, and this must have been his escape route—of course the bastard had one, he must have several which means he definitely allowed himself to be taken before, though that is what he told me and since there were two of them I'm not sure it matters but—”

“Frank,” Nancy interrupted, grimacing. “I think we have to worry about a few other things before starting to theorize on Zollner.”

“Right. Yeah. I knew—the bullet. You got shot. I haven't forgotten, but I... My mind's not all here. I was thinking about—I don't know what we're going to do, not if I managed to get us trapped down here.”

She put her hand over the wound. “Vallin did say the wound wasn't fatal.”

“If he gave you medical attention, which he hasn't and—Vallin?”

“Joe said that was what his name was.”

Frank put a hand to his head. “When did you see Joe? Is this another lie? I think I'm... Everything is such a mess. I don't know what to think and I know I'm not drugged anymore, but I feel almost like I must be...”

“Just stay calm. You could be going through withdrawal now, and that is going to... Let's not get ahead of ourselves,” Nancy said, hissing out a breath. “Okay, we have to find something to deal with the fact that both of us are bleeding.”

“Which was part of what I was doing before I freaked out about the underground thing. I may have blocked off any help and killed us both. What a _stupid_ plan...”

“You may have stopped Zollner and his brothers for good,” Nancy whispered. “I have to think that... It might just be worth it.”

“Not that long ago, I would have agreed with you, but now...”

“So, what, it was okay if you were the only one at risk?”

He snorted. “Of course it was. This whole sick twisted thing was about me. About making me... like them. And I... I think if I'd thought it would stop them, I would have... if it meant savying someone else, sparing them... But I didn't spare anyone.”

“You may have spared them all,” Nancy said, taking his hand. “Try and remember that.”


	36. Tunnels and Possibilities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe searches for a way to find Frank and Nancy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I admit, fully, that this was a pain to get out. I was a little at war with myself over the way the last bit had gone, and not sure I liked how I'd resolved it (and still mentally kicking myself for letting Joe get shot.) 
> 
> Still, I think it was the only way to go in the end. The very convoluted end that was not supposed to be like this. *sigh*

* * *

“I think I found something.”

Joe's words startled Bess and George, maybe even waking them. He wasn't sure if they'd drifted off over in those chairs or not. He'd lost track of time himself, aware vaguely that Phil had left, that some of the other guys had come and gone in the meantime as well, and even his parents and aunt. He'd spoken to them, some, but it was mostly a blur. He could blame that on the drugs he'd gotten, since he was still on a very nice dose of morphine. He knew it didn't help that he had the blueprints. He couldn't take his eyes off of them.

He had to find something, _anything,_ that would tell him where Frank was. He knew he couldn't really rest yet, not before he knew what happened to Frank, and that meant that he would go over these blueprints until he had them memorized. He wouldn't be allowed to leave the hospital for at least another day, and even if he was, he could barely move now, so he had to wait.

He'd search through that rubble piece by piece with his bare hands if he had to. He would find Frank. Joe knew he would, and he'd do it alone if he had to.

“Found something?” George asked, sitting up and rubbing at her back. Bess sat there, blinking like she needed another minute to fully wake. “What are you talking about?”

“The blueprints,” Joe reminded her, and she grimaced as she nodded and moved closer to the bed. “I have been looking at them all, and I think I finally have something.”

“Phil should never have given them to you,” Bess said, shaking her head. “Letting you obsess over them like this...”

“I needed them. Don't think that you wouldn't have done the same thing if you had something to do. You... I'm not sure why you're not already on a plane if you've given up like you seem to have done,” Joe told her, shaking his head as he did.

“That's uncalled for,” George told him. “Just because we're not doing something crazy like searching the rubble with our bare hands doesn't mean we gave up. We didn't give up on you, for one thing. That's why we're here. Besides which—the site is still off limits and unstable, and while your father is trying to get someone who can do surveys in to—”

“What?”

Bess ran her fingers through her hair. “I guess you didn't really pay any attention when he was here last, did you? Your father wanted to get some kind of expert in. He wanted to see about photographing the site and having some kind of analysis done of it. You can ask him for the technical details later.”

“I think he wanted to try and get a search done with technology since the actual site itself is still off-limits,” George said. She ran her hands over her arms. “He said he knew you weren't ready to stop looking, but this might be all we can manage for now.”

Joe looked down at the tablet. “Dad said Frank was dead and he couldn't lose me, too. I thought... I thought he'd accepted it. That... that he was convinced that Frank and Nancy were dead.”

Bess sighed. “I don't know. It's hard to believe that anyone could have survived that.”

“Maybe, but it's _Zollner._ He had to have some way out. We know he got himself caught on purpose before. He was planning on it. He had to have some kind of way out—and the explosions—that's not something any of us did. He did that. Which means that he had to have had a way out.”

“Did he?” George asked, shivering again. “For all we know, he did it just to spite us. He wouldn't let Frank or Nancy go free. He took them with him, one last act of defiance. He committed suicide and made sure they died with him.”

Joe shook his head. “No. I don't think so. Vallin shot me and took Nancy with him. I don't think he would have left me if this was just about a last act of defiance. He would have killed us all. He meant to escape. I'm sure of that.”

“Joe—”

“Look at this,” Joe said, holding up the tablet. “This area, here. I know there's something wrong about it. I've been going over and over the plans since I got them, and I don't know what this means, not for sure. I just think it has to be a part of Zollner's way out. I know he had one, George. Bess, I know he had an escape plan, and I think this part of the building has something to do with it. This is where we have to search. I know it.”

* * *

“Did you really manage to get someone with access to a satellite to do an aerial surveillance? Do you have that kind of reach?” Bess asked, looking at Fenton. She'd never worked all that closely with Joe's father, so she wasn't sure what all to expect. She knew that the boys got their skills from their father, following in his footsteps, and that he had a reputation as a detective, one that was solid enough to make it possible for him to create his own agency, but just how good was he and how many people did he know? Or was it someone that Joe knew that made this possible? They had worked for some secret government agency, hadn't they?

“There are people who have a vested interest in making sure that Zollner and his brothers were stopped for good that have nothing to do with us,” Fenton said, and Bess frowned. She supposed that was as much of an answer as she should expect, since no one was going to admit to using classified sources or equipment in front of her. She still didn't even know which agency Joe worked for, but he did have a badge. She knew that much.

“And they found something under all this? Like Joe suspected?”

Fenton nodded, giving a look back at his son. Joe would be up and pacing now if he was capable of it, even despite their agreement that he would stay still until some of the rubble was clear. He must be feeling bad again—or just feeling his drugs again.

“It looks like there may be a tunnel system underneath the building. We don't know for certain just yet, nor do we know where it might lead. It's difficult to be sure. It's not close to the door where Vallin confronted Joe and took Nancy,” Fenton said, and George looked over at him, not having missed his meaning.

“So... even if there _are_ tunnels underneath, there may not be any reason to think that Frank or Nancy would have been in there before the explosion,” George said. She shook her head. “I know that Joe is convinced that Frank and Nancy are alive, but I'm not sure that's something he should be hoping for at this point.”

Fenton nodded. “I don't want to discourage him, but I admit, I have more doubts than hope. After as long as Frank was missing, after what happened here and seeing Vallin shoot Joe... I don't know that I can believe either of them is alive. Still, I know none of us can go on in the limbo of never knowing.” 

Bess bit her lip. “There is still a chance, isn't there?”

“They haven't found any bodies yet,” George reminded her. “That is some hope.”

Bess turned back to the building. She wanted to hope, but she wasn't sure she could. She would just have to wait and see what they uncovered.

* * *

Joe knew they thought he was crazy. Stubborn and stupid, but he had to do it. He had to go down into the tunnels. He had to be in the front of the group. If Frank was down here, Joe had to be the one to find his brother. He knew that.

He didn't know how long he would be able to keep moving, keep himself on his feet, but he didn't care. He had to be there when they knew—when they found Frank. Even if it was a body—no, Joe refused to believe it would be a body; Frank was alive—Joe would be there.

“You are pushing yourself too much,” his father said, coming over to Joe's side. “At least stop walking on your own. I think you need to rest.”

“Dad, please. If Frank is down here—”

“Then he can wait a few minutes more for you to catch your breath,” Fenton insisted. “You are not the only one who wants to find Frank. Or Nancy. Still, you have to acknowledge some limits to what you can do. I know you don't want to, but you shouldn't even be out of the hospital, so at least indulge me just a little and rest.”

“What if Frank doesn't have five minutes?”

Fenton sighed. “If he doesn't, he's already lost to us.”

Joe shook his head. He didn't believe that. He couldn't. They had been so close when he'd run into Nancy, and if he hadn't been so stupid about it, maybe he could have found his brother then. They could have been reunited already. Maybe Joe wouldn't have gotten shot. Nancy wouldn't have been taken. They'd be free. Zollner might be rotting in jail again, with Vallin, as they all deserved.

Though... if Zollner died in the explosion, Joe wouldn't have objected to it. Death might even be better, though Joe would have preferred it if those bastards suffered a lot more before they went. They'd gotten off easy after all they had done to Frank and to their friends.

“Here. Come along with me. We'll just go a bit further and then rest again. Don't argue. We are not risking you any more than that. Your aunt would kill me if she knew I'd allowed you down here. I know you're an adult now, but that doesn't mean that I shouldn't stop you. You've been through so much, and we don't know how stable this tunnel is or what we're going to find.”

“We need to know,” Joe reminded his father. “The worst part of having Frank disappear was wondering what was happening to him, how badly he was hurt, if he might be dead...”

Fenton nodded. “Yes, but you can't expect to explore an entire tunnel system in one day. Not in your condition.”

Joe grunted. He was sick of hearing about his condition. He wasn't that weak. He was tired and sore, and the drugs were starting to wear off, so he didn't know that he could keep going for all that much longer. He had to find Frank while he was still able to move. To stand.

“Maybe if we called out to him... If he's alive, he would hear us, wouldn't he?”

Fenton gave him a slight smile. “Maybe. Save your strength, though. You're still going to have to make the trip back the way we came. Maybe the others had better luck down their paths. We may have picked the wrong one.”

“I looked at the map, at the plans,” Joe said. “I must have memorized them. I am sure this is the one that goes toward that door, the one where I found Nancy and ended up shot. I think that I picked the only tunnel that could get there, and we know that if Nancy, at the very least, was in the tunnels, she'd have to be near that door. There wasn't time for much else. Zollner wanted us to believe that she and Frank and everyone died in that explosion because it happened right after I got shot.”

“Yes, but—”

“I think I heard something,” Joe said, pushing away from his father and ignoring the pain as he ran toward the source of it. He didn't care how much it hurt. He had to know what that was, and he had to find his brother.

He turned a corner and stopped, leaning against the wall, needing it for support. “Frank.”


	37. Conscious, Not Complete

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank wakes up in the hospital. Unfortunately, it's not all simple and over, even if they want it to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was saying earlier that Frank's psychological fallout from this could take books of its own to resolve. I don't know how to do that or what I will do to cover it, but I have a start here. I know it would be a long, long process.
> 
> And did I mention I know nothing of medicine? I'm stretching the limits here, but I think it could be possible. Sort of. It was a non-fatal wound, after all...

* * *

“Don't move.”

Frank blinked, not sure where anyone got the idea that he'd want to move from. Everything he could feel hurt—again, that wasn't that unusual—and he didn't know that he was capable of moving anywhere. The wound on his thigh was the worst, and he swore he could feel the infection throbbing through it. He wanted to make it stop, but that wasn't an option.

“Not... going... anywhere,” Frank said. “I know that. I've accepted it by now.”

“Oh, hell, no. You better not have,” Joe said, and Frank raised a hand to his head, trying to clear it. He didn't think—Joe couldn't be here—Joe was dead—no, that was the lie that Zollner had tried to convince him of, but Frank hadn't listened. That was not true. He hadn't believed it then, so why would he think it was true now?

“Joe?”

“It's me, Frank,” his brother said, taking hold of his hand. “It really is me. I swear I'm here. Dad's here, too. You scared him when you tried to get up a minute ago. I think he thought you'd tear through all the stitches holding you together and—”

“Bed pan,” Frank said, and Joe frowned at him, but Fenton moved something in front of him in time, and Frank heaved up something he didn't want to think about into it. He groaned and laid back, and then someone was pressing a cool cloth against his forehead, using a paper towel to wipe off his mouth. “Mom?”

“I'm here, too, sweetheart,” Laura said, kissing his forehead and then running her fingers through his hair. “We were all so worried about you.”

He looked at her. “I don't... This is so... I don't understand. Can't be real.”

“I doubt that you remember anything about getting rescued,” Fenton said, putting his arm around his wife as Laura took Frank's other hand. “You were very out of it when we found you in those tunnels. Between the infection and the rest of what he'd done to you, you were in bad shape. You didn't recognize any of us down there.”

“I don't...”

“You're probably not going to remember it,” Joe told him. “I still haven't gotten the car accident back, and they say I might not. One too many blows to my head, and they're not even sure what all drugs you've been on. They haven't actually given you any more, since even though you were out of it, you were pretty adamant that you were going through withdrawal.”

Frank pulled his hands back from them, curling up against himself. “Was drugged the entire time. Know that much. Not sure about anything else. Well... Some is clear. He tried to tell me... Car accident. You and Dad died. I saw... headlines. Graves. I...”

“You are not dead. None of us are,” Laura insisted. “Though you have all come so close lately I think you took years off my life and Gertrude's. Your brother, for instance, ended up in the hospital three times while you were gone. Stabbed, shot, and in a car wreck.”

Frank looked over at Joe, who glared at his mother. “Three times?”

“Two were accidents,” Joe said. “It's not like Callie meant to stab me and the car crash might have been staged so Zollner could escape, but we had no way of knowing and—”

“Callie stabbed you?”

“Joseph Hardy,” Laura said, shaking her head. “You know better than that. Go and find the doctors. They'll want to know that Frank is awake.”

“Can't lie to me,” Frank said. “Shouldn't try and keep things... I know I'm confused and... Callie stabbed him? I thought she was doing better. What happened? What is going on? What—this isn't real, is it? This is another of Zollner's games and I... I don't want to play anymore. Leave me alone.”

“Frank—”

“You're not real. None of you are real. Go away and leave me alone.”

* * *

“I don't care _what_ he says. I'm going to go in there and shake some sense into him.”

“Joe,” Laura said, putting her hand on his arm. “I think it's best to give your brother some space at the moment. We don't know what all that man did to him, and your pushing could send him in the wrong direction. We're not here to lose him to those mind games after finally getting him back in person. You have to be patient. Let the doctors do their work. Let Frank see this isn't another trick. Don't force him to accept it. That is what that man was doing, trying to force Frank to see it his way. You can't do the same thing and expect your brother to be okay.”

Joe almost smacked the wall in frustration. “I am not going to stand around and do nothing while Frank is in there being tormented by a guy who is dead. Zollner died in the explosion. That's what Frank said. Nancy said the same thing. If that guy really did die there, why are we helping him? Why are we letting what he did to Frank continue?”

“You heard your brother,” Fenton said. “He was shown things to prove that you and I died in that car accident. Zollner twisted the truth their, founded a devastating lie on something real, and just the mention of what _did_ happen was enough to make your brother refuse to see us. We can't afford to have that happen again.”

Joe ran his fingers through his hair. “Then what _do_ we do? Because doing nothing is not an option. Frank will sit there and convince himself of the worst if he's left alone, and that is not something I'm willing to let him do. We almost lost him when he went into his room and his mind for months before, and that was... That was bad enough, but now there's Ned and Nancy and Callie as well as all the new hell that Zollner put him through. It's too much to leave him alone with.”

Fenton looked at Laura. She nodded. “I think we might see if they'd be willing to move Nancy for a while.”

“What? Why would Nancy be—”

“Nancy was there when we found Frank. That part he knows—or should know—that we didn't fake. She's a bridge between what he experienced and what we did. We know Zollner tried to tell Frank that we died. He didn't say that about Nancy.”

“We don't _know_ that. We just know what little Frank said back there because we've barely had a chance to talk to him,” Joe said. “What if bringing Nancy in there makes it worse? What if he thinks we are a part of it because we have her, too?”

“It's a risk, but it might be one worth taking,” Fenton said. “Come on. Let's go see if Nancy is awake and can fill in a few more of the blanks for us. We'll make a decision after we've spoken to her.”

* * *

“Nancy?”

She forced her eyes open and looked over at the door. Almost the whole Hardy clan, all there to welcome her. She gave them a tired smile, not bothering to sit up. She'd learned the hard way when her dad was here that wasn't a good idea. She didn't want to push anything, much as she didn't like this bed or being in the hospital, period. She knew she was lucky. She should be dead.

“Hey,” she said, waving them over. “Did they kick you out for his sponge bath again?”

Joe shook his head. “I don't know that Mom would ever buy that—she's the one that gave birth to him and diapered him, so there's not much she hasn't seen—though I think I'd have to excuse myself. That's just too weird for me.”

“You're lucky you're not getting them yourself,” Laura muttered. She came closer to the bed and took Nancy's hand. “How are you feeling? You look better than the last time I came by, but I know I didn't stay very long.”

“I don't blame you,” Nancy said. Frank was her son. Nancy was just the daughter of a friend, and she had her own circle to crowd around her and keep her company as she healed. A couple of faces were noticeably absent, and that hurt, but she had to hope that Ned was going to be fine after his therapy. “Frank looked bad when I last saw him. He was so worried about me, but I think this one gun shot didn't compete with all those marks he had on him...”

“Death of a thousand needles or some crap like that,” Joe agreed, shaking his head. “Though that's not all they did to him. The bruises... the broken bones...”

Nancy frowned. “Wait—what broken bones?”

“They broke bones in both his feet. You... didn't know that?”

She shook her head, feeling sick. “No. I didn't—oh, hell, They really had him drugged. He... He was walking on them. He was hurt, and they had him walking. Bastards. I thought I could have him walk if he leaned on me, but... that is just... I'd say I don't believe it, but I saw that place and I saw part of what Zollner did, and I don't put anything past him. Or Vallin.”

“That's actually part of why we came to see you,” Fenton told her. “Frank woke up, but he's so confused right now—he's convinced none of us are real. We were hoping that you could tell us more of what you saw or maybe help us explain to him that he really is free and none of us are actors or lying to him. I don't know how else to do that.”

Nancy put a hand over her side. “It'll be a tough sell. I should be dead myself, so I don't know if I can be much help.”

Joe sighed. “We have to _try_ it. He's going to crawl into his mind and never come out if we don't do something. We know Zollner lied about Dad and me dying, and that really got to him, but we're not sure what else he did besides... well, besides what the doctors found. You were there, though. You said you saw it. And you saw where they were keeping him.”

“I saw the headstones,” Nancy agreed, getting all of their eyes on her. “They had a mock cemetery with the headstones. One for you, Fenton, and one for Joe. He must have been there and seen it. I'm not sure what other rooms they used out of that... funhouse, but they had sets all over it. One was a hospital. That's where I woke up. Another was a mall.”

“A mall?” Laura frowned. “That... doesn't make sense.”

“I think it does,” Joe said, and when they turned to him, he added, “Iola.”

Everyone shared a wince, and Nancy took a breath, letting it out again before speaking. “Frank did see me there, so that might help. I know he was drugged, but he tried to tell me about what Zollner was doing, that he had a twin and a third brother and that the place was some kind of movie studio. And he was aware of me after the explosion. He knew he'd trapped us down there. He may think it must all be a dream or a trick because we both should be dead. The explosion caved in the tunnel on top of Zollner and Vallin, and we had nowhere to go. I was shot, he was barely functioning...”

Laura squeezed her hand. “It's okay, Nancy. You don't have to push yourself, either.”

Nancy shook her head. “I was just thinking I owed him again. If he hadn't insisted that Zollner would at least have a first aid kit down there, I don't think we'd be having this conversation. Vallin said he shot me where it wouldn't be fatal, but without medical attention, it wouldn't have mattered.”

“Yeah, but the secret base under the secret base was admittedly creepy,” Joe said. “Did he really think that wouldn't be found?”

Nancy shook her head. “Zollner said we'd be long gone from there by the time you were able to get everyone to look for us. I think he planned to leave once the emergency crews were gone. The 'secret base' was just his stopping ground until then. They were probably planning on fixing us up enough for the journey—there was enough medical supplies for that—and then they'd have moved us. Frank's stupid plan worked.”

“What plan?” Fenton asked.

“And why are you calling it stupid?” Joe demanded. “You just said it worked.”

“Frank called it stupid. And it wasn't really one they should have fallen for, but he did trick them. He fooled me. I thought he was in a drugged haze until after the explosion. He let them think he'd fallen and had to be carried, and since he was so important to what they were doing, they all went back for him. He got down the ramp. They didn't.”

Joe looked at his parents. “Okay, glad as I am that Frank survived and that he won and that—Um... Frank killed them, right? That's basically what it sounds like—it's what he's going to think he did—so we have an even bigger mess on our hands than we thought.”


	38. Reassurance and Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank and Nancy talk, which makes it possible for Joe and Frank to talk. Okay, so it's a couple conversations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I almost added the part I put in Love and Subtle Clues for Nancy and Frank in this universe having a talk about part of what he's missing. I didn't because that would have slanted things, even if it was just a friendship piece, but since Nancy was able to help a lot without that conversation, it might seem slanted anyway. Still, I said I wouldn't make this story overly Frank/Nancy shippy, and I haven't. This is probably as close as it comes.
> 
> And I almost wanted to slap a done on it and say it was, but it's not quite there. I'm just not good with winding things up after something like this, since I feel the recovery would need books of its own, just like Frank wasn't healed from the last case when this all started.

* * *

“Frank?”

He knew that voice, but it shouldn't be here. No, it wasn't Zollner's—he was supposed to be dead—but then from what he remembered, _she_ should be dead, so he didn't know what to think or what to do. They didn't restrain him here. They didn't drug him. He would have been free to leave if he could get around on his own—he did not remember having his feet broken, but then he'd never been able to sense things clearly when he was with Zollner. It could have happened in the last time he was with the bastard. Frank didn't know. Couldn't know.

His memories weren't going to improve. He wasn't going to have a sudden onset of clarity and know every minute of what had happened when he was taken, and he would never know the parts he hadn't been present for because he wasn't omniscient and wasn't going to find a convenient video or anything to tell him what had actually happened.

He would be lying if he said all of him wanted to know. He actually didn't. What he remembered was bad enough, but while he would be glad to be rid of the disorientation and doubts, the idea of knowing some of the stuff that was better lost to the drugs and confusion—that he didn't want.

“Nancy.”

“You don't remember finding their first aid supplies, do you?”

Frank shook his head. “No. There's a lot I don't remember. I... There's nothing about my feet. The doctors say I can't walk, but I don't know why. I don't remember Zollner doing that to me. Or... Vallin. That's what everyone is calling Leather Jacket, but... he never gave me a name. Zollner didn't. No, I'm wrong. He did use a name when he was my doctor, and it wasn't Vallin.”

“He... was your doctor? Why didn't anyone say that? No one recognized the sketch of him—”

“You're not all programmed to not know him. Don't panic that much,” Frank muttered. He put a hand to his head. “He dyed his hair, made himself look older—salt and pepper hair—with big glasses. They were distracting, and underneath I'm pretty sure he had contacts changing the color of his eyes. I think my own vision was blurry enough from the drugs when he showed up as himself. That let me recognize him—that or he wanted me to. There was so much going on to screw with my head...”

“Everything that happened was to mess with your head, wasn't it?” Nancy's look was apologetic and yet somehow not full of pity, which he would have expected from everyone. They were going to pity him for this, coddle him and get overprotective, think he deserved forgiveness and special treatment when he didn't.

That was if any of them were actually really there, which Frank still had trouble accepting. He hadn't seen Zollner or Vallin or any sign that this was just another set up, but he would have expected them to learn from the last time. They wouldn't use the same method—they'd make it so real before yanking out the rug, make him doubt his sanity for good and all. Once they had that, once they could break him... It would have been all over.

Frank didn't know if he could have withstood it for much longer, if he would have been able to resist Zollner. He'd thought about giving in several times, about death more, and he hadn't seen a way out. That was the hardest part, knowing that. He'd had only two options: submit or die, and neither of them were appealing. Both were death, just in different ways, and he hadn't been ready to accept it, for all his words to the contrary.

“I actually think I might hate being lucid,” Frank said, and Nancy nodded, putting her hand over her side as she reached for his. Taking it in her own, she held it, studying his fingers.

“Sometimes thinking we're crazy is easier.”

He looked at her. “Is this... about Gary?”

“It was such a crazy thought,” Nancy said, shaking her head. “I wanted to be wrong. And when I had the thought that maybe Ned could have been brainwashed, I said that was crazy, too. I still wish it was. This past year seems like a nightmare that we will somehow wake up from...”

“Only that day never comes,” Frank agreed. “I don't know what's real anymore. I want to believe that you're here. That Joe and Dad and Mom were all here and themselves... I just can't trust that they are. I can't trust my eyes or my mind—and don't say anything about my heart. I haven't known what that wanted since... ever.”

Nancy shook her head. “There won't be a quick fix to this, Frank. You will probably be years down the road doubting at times that you got out and are free. And even if you had Zollner's body in front of you right now, you'd have a hard time believing he was dead and you were free. He might not have gotten all he wanted from you, but he did enough. Too much. I'm sorry. I don't know how to help. I think only time can, and I admit to doubts about that. It's not that I'm saying I... I want you to be able to heal. I want that more than I can say. I'm just so scared that you... that I... That none of us will ever come back from this.”

Frank considered moving his hand out of hers. “I would tease you about the great Nancy Drew admitting to fear, but... I can't. I... I am just as scared of it as you are if not more so, and if there's anything these past few weeks have proven... we're a lot more fragile than we like to think we are.”

“Human,” she corrected. “You're human, Frank, and none of us, not one, thinks you are the slightest bit weak. What you went through... You were strong, resisting him. Even at the end you fought him and found a way to free us.”

“One that should have killed us and owed mostly to blind luck—”

“Did it? Or did you gamble right on him being unwilling to leave you behind no matter what?”

Frank sighed. “I'm not a hero. Don't think that. Everyone is hurting and in this mess because I... because he wanted to make me like them. He said I was perfect for it.”

“He knew nothing about you,” Nancy said. “If he did, he wouldn't have tried. You and Joe are both too stubborn for that. It never would have worked like he thought.”

“I wish I had your confidence about it,” Frank said. “I don't know that I believe I would have held out all that much longer.”

“It doesn't matter how much he did to your mind, though.” Nancy rose, She took her hand from his and moved it, placing it over his chest. “He couldn't change what is in here. That's the difference between you and him—your love for your family, that close tie you have with Joe—you wouldn't have become Zollner, even if he'd fully corrupted your mind. Your heart wouldn't have been in it.”

Frank looked at her hand and back at her. “What about Callie and Ned?”

“Not the same,” Nancy insisted. “Those were orders they couldn't ignore. You weren't being made over into someone who only followed orders. And I think, even as logical as you are, you would still have followed your heart.”

* * *

Joe knocked on the door, not sure he believed that Frank would be willing to let him stay this time. His brother had been pretty vocal about being alone and Joe not being real, though they'd all hoped that having Nancy there would change things. She might have been able to reach him, since she'd been there with him, and they were all counting on that. Something had to work—they couldn't help Frank if he wouldn't even talk to them.

“Frank?”

His brother opened his eyes and looked over at him. Nancy was still asleep, though Joe figured that whoever had broken the hospital regulations and moved their beds closer together had the right idea. She had his hand, and if Frank was allowing that, he must trust her some.

“Admiring your handiwork?” Frank asked, and Joe frowned at him. “I know Nancy didn't move that bed on her own. And the hospital wouldn't have done it. There is only one person I can think of stubborn enough to ignore his own injuries and all the rules to do it.”

Joe shrugged, crossing over to the chair. “Eh, well, they keep threatening to put me back in one of those things, and if I was gonna get stuck in one, you know I'd have to be next to you, annoying the crap out of you. That's just how it works with brothers. With us.”

Frank nodded, trying to pull his hand out of Nancy's and failing. “I think she's having a nightmare. She's got a death grip on me, and I don't even remember her having my hand when she fell asleep. Not, of course, that I remember much of anything these days.”

Joe shrugged. “It's not like you have to be embarrassed. I think Mom has a few dozen pictures of us doing the same thing in hospital rooms.”

“It's different. You're... Well, you're my brother. She is not.”

Joe watched him. “Does that mean that you actually believe I am who I say I am now? Or is that just a generalization because—”

“Are you trying to pick a fight with me? Because that could happen,” Frank warned him. He shifted positions, trying to get comfortable around Nancy's hold. “I'm not sure what to think. I don't know that I will be for a long time. Nancy gave me one hell of a pep talk, but... Nancy could be as fake as everything else. So what do I do, Joe? How do I trust anything I'm seeing or doing? I don't know anymore. Everything was part of a long, elaborate manipulation, and Zollner himself said he'd done his best work on me when he didn't even have me—by making me doubt myself. All he did when I was with him... that just reinforced it.”

Joe swore, shaking his head as he went over to the bed. “Look, Zollner was sick, and he hurt you in more ways than I want to think about, but he didn't win. We did. The guy's dead. You're free. You did that almost on your own. I might have helped find you later—”

“I knew you would.”

Joe smiled at him. That sounded like Frank. Like the Frank from way before this mess all started. “Well, someone has to find you and rescue you from all the trouble that you get into.”

Frank snorted. “I think you have that backward.”

“Maybe I did before,” Joe said, “but in case you haven't noticed, big brother, you were the one in trouble this time. And how you could have missed that, I don't know, since you're supposedly a genius and all, but sometimes even geniuses miss things with their small minds and—”

“Excuse me?”

Joe winced. “Did... That may have gone too far. It was just... I felt like we were joking like we used to... Before Zollner. I got a little carried away.”

Frank laughed. “You always get carried away, Joe.”

“Not always,” Joe objected, but he couldn't help smiling. Despite the hospital and all his wounds, despite the machines hooked up to Frank and Nancy, despite Zollner and that hanging over all of their heads, this felt right.

Everyone else would say it was too soon to tell, too soon to be sure, but not him. Last time he'd worried, freaked out when Frank tried to act normal, but this wasn't about Frank pretending to be normal. They all knew he wasn't okay, but that didn't matter. What mattered to Joe was that he had his brother back.


	39. Picking up the Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe continues to support his brother. Nancy tries to atone for the past. Frank manages to settle a few things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think that I've done what I can to wrap this up without it feeling all... rushed and forced. Because I don't believe this sort of thing is easy to get over or that it wouldn't still be an issue for all of them. So here it is, a wrap up that doesn't resolve everything, but as someone said, it just had to have hope.
> 
> It also includes something I think people wanted to see much earlier, though I don't know how well those same people will like what I did... if they're still reading. I just felt this was how it had to go, and I think I left it open enough for hope.
> 
> That said, I'm not sure a sequel would be all that hopeful, but I haven't started one yet.

* * *

“I'm not sure I can do this.”

Joe looked over at his brother, trying to decide what Frank meant by that. He didn't know what to think. Frank had been doing okay—better in some ways than any of them could have hoped—so maybe they'd all gotten their hopes up too high. Or maybe Frank was just talking about the fact that now that he knew he had broken bones in his feet, he couldn't walk. Joe really didn't know what might be happening inside his brother's head. He hoped that it wasn't going to be like before—he couldn't stand the idea of Frank locking himself away again—but he hadn't seen any signs of that yet.

He'd let everyone see him at the hospital, all their friends and all Nancy's friends—with two exceptions, of course, since they were still in therapy and one of them would definitely not want to see Frank—and Joe thought he accepted, mostly, that all of them were real, not part of some kind of manipulation on Zollner's part.

Had Zollner died in another way, one that seemed less owing to a bad plan Frank still didn't believe should have worked and shouldn't have been able to pull off, maybe that would have changed things. Joe didn't know. He just knew they still had a fight on their hands, since Frank was far from healed, even if he'd been released from the hospital.

“Can't do what?”

“This,” Frank said, looking like he wanted to grab the steering wheel and change their course. “I can't go back in there and _celebrate._ I know there's a party. I know you all too well to think you wouldn't—unless it's—no, it's not—you're having a party—but I don't—I can't go in there to a party. I can't pretend I'm _glad_ about this. I don't want to be in the hospital, but to celebrate after this... No. I can't. I won't.”

Joe reached over to grab Frank's hand before he could open the door and jump out. “Easy. No one's going to force that on you if you're not up to it. Yes, we are all happy you're out of the hospital, but that doesn't mean—the party is more for us than for you, and deep down, I think we always knew that. We're the ones that freaked out over losing you. Who did everything we could to make sure we got you back. And it never feels like enough. You know that. This party...”

“Is closure. For you.”

“And torture. For you.”

Frank managed a small smile. “I'm sorry, Joe. I just... this whole mess is my fault, and I know you and the others don't believe that, but Zollner made it clear that he was doing it because of me. Because I fit some sick fantasy of what he wanted in a successor and he supposedly couldn't have children of his own. Not that I always felt it was... Never mind. The point was that he picked me, and everyone suffered because of him. Because he chose me.”

“Frank...”

“No celebrations. Not for this. Not now. Not ever.”

Joe nodded. “Fine. Let's just... go home, okay?”

* * *

“Joe, try not to take it so hard. The party was a bad idea, and we all knew it,” Nancy said, shutting the door to her rental car and looking around again. She didn't know how she was going to do this, and a part of her wanted to use the excuse that she wasn't fully healed to avoid it. Again.

She shook her head. That might have been a passable reason while she was in the hospital, but she'd gotten out before Frank did, and she was better now than she had been before. Her excuses were running out, and it was clear this was nothing more than cowardice. Facing this, facing the pain and the mistakes—that was something she'd never had to do before, not like this, and she didn't know how to do it. She'd thought about asking for advice, but as supportive as her father and friends were, none of them fully understood.

And asking Frank... that was out of the question.

“I know,” Joe said, and Nancy almost changed the subject, wanting him to help her or talk her out of this, but it was important and it mattered and she couldn't avoid it, even if she was afraid of what would happen when she saw him. “And we all agreed that he'd hate it, but for some reason, I really did think he'd join it for at least a little while. I don't think he's left his room since.”

“You'll get him out of there,” Nancy told him. “It's not going to be like before. Zollner isn't free to taunt him, and he was almost past that the last time anyway. It's just going to be hard for a while. None of us can deny that.”

“I hate mind games. They're so much worse than being beat up. Getting hit—you get over that when you're healed. Most of the time, at least. It's the words and the games that don't go away afterward. Those scars last so much longer.”

“Yes.”

“Nancy, if Frank—”

“He won't,” Nancy said, hoping she wasn't promising something she had no power to give. “Frank is dealing with what happened, and he has you. You're too stubborn to let this win, and deep down, so is he. He's just letting the guilt do more of the talking at the moment, even when we try to tell him he has nothing to feel guilty for. He didn't choose Zollner, didn't know that the bastard would fixate on him like this, and he did the only thing he could when he was with them—he held out against the mental conditioning they were doing. It's not like he could have saved anyone if he gave in. That's not how it works. It wouldn't have helped us. It would have destroyed him.”

“Why does it always seem so logical when you say it?”

“Because you already know all this. I'm not saying anything new. It's just easier hearing it from someone else,” Nancy said as she approached the doors. She sighed. “Speaking of easier... I have to let you go so that I can face a few things of my own.”

“Ned.”

“Yes.”

Joe whistled. “Well, I'm not sure I have much to offer you there, but you know I was out of line before and what I said I didn't mean—it's not like you don't care about Ned. You're just... You are bad at showing it. That's fact, I think.”

She snorted. “Thanks a lot, Joe.”

He laughed. “I try. And... thank you. Good luck with Ned. You'll need it.”

She let the call end, not as reassured as she'd like to be, but she didn't think she should try calling anyone else, not this close to what she needed to do, even if she'd like something from Frank. He understood the blame, at least, and she knew their situations were similar, since he had to think about Callie and this sort of conversation often.

She wouldn't make things worse for him, though. She'd handle this. She was a big girl, and big girls dealt with the consequences of their actions—even if those consequences weren't all theirs or their doing.

She took a deep breath and prepared herself for the final door she had to pass through. She reached up her hand and knocked. This was it. No going back. No running or pretending this didn't exist, no burying it under promises that would never be true or lies that reassured them both.

Ned opened the door, frowning at her. “Nancy?”

“Hi. I know we're... I know it's still... I came to talk, Ned. I should have come before, but I was in the hospital, and then I... Then I was scared. I'll admit it—I was scared.”

He leaned against the door frame. “The great Nancy Drew, scared? Really?”

“I was. I didn't know how you'd react to me coming—and I don't mean because of the programming. I mean because... because I hurt you, over and over again, and you let me keep doing it, and when we tried to talk before it became an argument and...” She looked up at him. “I don't know how we're going to cope with this, but we had to start by talking, so I'm here. I'm ready to talk. I'm not going to cover over what's wrong anymore. That's a promise, and this one... This one I will not break.”

Ned looked her over for a minute before letting her in.

* * *

“No, this is not a dream. No, you are not hallucinating, and yes, I am real.”

Frank blinked, trying to accept those words as he came out of a nightmare that he didn't want to remember. He tried not to shudder. That wasn't easy to do, looking across the room to find someone who should not be there sitting there, so calm and collected and right from another nightmare.

The only thing worse would probably have been if she was Zollner.

“Callie?”

She nodded, keeping her hands folded in her lap. “I know... I know I shouldn't be here. I am not your family's favorite person right now, not after what I did to Joe... and what I did to you.”

Frank shook his head. He wasn't completely sure he was awake at the moment, but he knew that he'd say the same thing to her if she was a dream or a hallucination, so he didn't have much to lose there. “That wasn't you. I know you. I know you never wanted to hurt anyone.”

She laughed. It sounded off, but then he wouldn't have expected it to sound right, not here and now after all they'd been through. “That's not true. There were people over the years I wanted to hurt. Just... not you or Joe. Well, more you than Joe. There were times when he made me so mad, and I did blame him for Iola...”

Frank nodded, easing himself into a place where he could sit. “I'm not sure why you came, though. Last I heard, you didn't want to see me.”

“I... I didn't. I was afraid I'd hurt you again,” she whispered, wringing her hands together. “That wasn't me, and I didn't want to lose myself to that again. Never again. I didn't... Then Joe came to see me and I heard you were missing. I don't know _how_ it came back, how I lost myself again, but I couldn't stop myself from hurting Joe. He tried to talk me out of it, and I wanted to listen, but I _couldn't._ And now...”

“Joe is fine. He's already back doing more than he should,” Frank told her. He didn't know how to feel about that, seeing Joe doing things like he hadn't been stabbed, shot, and in a car accident all within the space of two weeks, but so far, his brother wasn't showing any signs of slowing down or backsliding because of those injuries, so Frank had to be content with that.

“You're not fine.”

Frank snorted. “How am I supposed to be fine? A madman decided I was his heir, tried to brainwash me, kidnapped and tortured people I knew and cared about, manipulated everyone around me... He had me so doped up I didn't know I had two broken feet... I still don't know what's real. How am I supposed to be fine after that?”

She managed a small smile. “I guess we have a few things in common.”

Frank almost hurled. “I am so sorry, Callie. This—”

“Isn't your fault.”

“I'm never going to believe that,” Frank admitted. He shook his head. “It doesn't matter how many times you say that, Joe says it, my parents say it... No one is going to convince me that I'm not to blame for all of this. Look at the lives I almost destroyed because I couldn't leave that case alone. If I had just let it go—”

“You wouldn't have been yourself. What you are is good and beautiful, Frank. Don't think it isn't.”

“That sounds... ominously final somehow.”

“I'm not planning on attacking you.”

“No, but you are leaving, aren't you?” Frank asked, and when her eyes met his with surprise, he almost laughed. “I never could shut it off, you know. The detective part of me. That, and I know you pretty well by now. I even know how I've felt lately. You want to get away from all of this, and I don't blame you. In fact... it's probably more what you need than anything else.”

She looked down at her hands. “One of my doctors was involved in what happened to you. I don't know how I can trust that I don't have more programming or that I can work with anyone here and be sure... I... I think I've found a specialist in Europe who might be able to help, and I want to try it.”

Frank nodded. “You should. You deserve to be free of it, really free, and not just tricked into thinking you were.”

“Frank...”

“Don't. It's not like I—We thought we'd found the right person to help before, but we were wrong. This time it's in your hands, and you need to do what's best for you. I'm not in a position to stop you, and I wouldn't even if I could. Because you deserve better. If I could have made it so you never suffered because of me—”

“Don't you start, either,” she said, wiping at her cheek. “You're going to get better, too. You don't have a choice—Joe will see to it whether you like it or not.”

Frank snorted. “He's not that bad. He... he did keep me going last time, though, and I know that. I'm not sure where I would be without him.”

“I'm glad you two have each other. I've always been a little jealous of that,” Callie admitted. She stood. “I'll let you get back to your rest. I just... I wanted to talk to you alone, and I wasn't sure anyone would let me if I didn't do it this way.”

“You are always welcome. I mean that.”

She smiled back at him.

* * *

“You still alive in here?”

Joe had to dodge the pillow coming at his head, but he did it with a smile. That was so classic, and he didn't mind a few pillows coming at him if it meant that Frank was still aware of the outside world and not retreating into his mind again. After hearing about Callie's decision, Joe had been worried about the worst, but maybe he didn't have to be.

“You feel up to doing something with the guys tonight? Pizza sound good?”

Frank looked over at him. “If I had an appetite at all, watching you stuff yourself would take it away quickly enough.”

“Seriously, Frank? You have barely eaten all week.”

Frank shrugged. “Pretty sure the drugs weren't just given to me in injections and IVs. In fact, since I don't remember half the times I must have been drugged, it had to have been in my food, too. It's hard to eat when that thought comes to mind, even if I know Mom and Aunt Gertrude are not poisoning me.”

“Damn it.”

Frank shrugged. “I am aware that I still have a long way to go when it comes to... fighting this. The reminders... triggers... they're not going to just go away in an instant. It's a long haul from here. It's only been a few weeks, and a part of me still doesn't know that these weeks have been real, so...”

“So what are we going to do about it?”

“Give it time, I guess.”

Joe groaned, throwing himself across his brother's bed in a theatrical manner. “Giving things time sucks.”

Frank shook his head, giving him a gentle shove with his foot. “Off the bed. That could have been my foot, and if you broke them again—”

“Yeah, yeah.” Joe sat up and looked at him. “I don't know. I know time's supposed to heal all wounds, but do you really think that's all we can do? There has to be something. Mind games can't win like this—it's not right, and if Zollner gets to keep winning, then it's not over. Sure as hell isn't fair.”

Frank shrugged. “Not much in life is fair. We do what we can to balance the scales, but if it was easy to do that, if things were as equitable as they should be... We'd all be very different people. Considering what we have been involved with since we were kids—we were _lucky._ Very lucky. Something like this could have happened sooner or one or both of us could be dead by now. The good guys always winning is a myth, and we've been fortunate that it was true in our case for most of our lives. If we're talking about fair—”

“Don't. It's not fair for you to be in this mess. You did the right thing stopping Zollner. I won't ever believe it was wrong, no matter what happened afterward. Ignoring what he did would have been wrong, not the other way around.”

“I just... I still wish I could have prevented all of this. If I had really understood what Zollner was, what he was capable of—”

“No one knew. You were the first person who came close to catching him, remember?” Joe asked, looking at his brother and hoping this would get through to him. “He had more of an organization and more of a reach than he should have had—hell, he had a twin to pretend was him when he was supposed to go to prison. We couldn't have guessed that. It's like a bad piece of fiction. So much of this is unreal, should never have happened, and yet here we are. You can't blame yourself for not seeing it. You saw enough to know something was wrong, and you did your best to stop it. It just so happens that doing that cost you so much more than you knew you could lose.”

Frank swallowed. “So how do I ever do it again, knowing full well the possible cost? I've always known that my family and friends were at risk, but it never really hit home until now, until they were at risk in a way I never thought was possible. Everyone says I can't shut off that part of me, that I wouldn't be true to myself if I stopped being a detective, so now... How do I find any sort of balance with that? How can I choose to go on, knowing what I could be costing everyone?”

“Well... You could always try and break off every friendship and connection you've ever made, leaving yourself alone and supposedly invulnerable, but then you'd lose what you fight for, so it's not really a solution,” Joe said. He shook his head. “You know you'd be miserable doing that. The people who really care about you wouldn't ask you to give up who you are or doing the right thing. They'd accept the risk to themselves and stick to you. They'd even seek it out themselves.”

“You are such an idiot.”

Joe laughed, pulling his brother close to him. “Maybe. But I'm with you in this thing no matter what. We're partners to the end, just like we're brothers to the end.”

“I don't know. I feel like I broke everything and it can't be fixed.”

“Don't say that,” a voice cautioned from the doorway. “Joe will go out and buy every bit of superglue he can find to fix it.”

Joe grinned. “Nah, I'd go for one of the ones from the infomercials. The unbeatable glue that's amazing and lets you sail boats with holes in them.”

Nancy rolled her eyes. “Of course you would. You'd also manage to get the salegirl's number while you're at it.”

“What can I say? No one can resist me.”

“Oh, there is at least one girl who can,” Nancy said as she came further into the room, still smiling. Joe moved over to allow her to sit on the foot of the bed, and she did, making sure she left plenty of space between them.

Frank shook his head at both of them. “We're not going to start that again, are we?”

“No.”

“That didn't sound very believable.”

Joe laughed. “Come on, Frank. You know us too well for that. We do this kind of thing for fun. And speaking of fun... since you turned down the guys and aren't likely to go out but Nancy's here... What say you to the challenge of a puzzle?”

Nancy smiled. “I don't think your brother knows how to resist one of those.”

“I should hate you both,” Frank told them. He smiled instead. “Thank you. Both of you.”

Joe stood, offering his hand to help Frank up. “You know we wouldn't give up on you, ever. It doesn't matter how broken you might feel. You've got friends and family that will see you through fixing every last piece. And yeah, that might be completely lame as we're about to spend a perfectly good Friday night doing a jigsaw puzzle, but it's worth it if it means you're leaving your room.”

Frank smiled, accepting Joe's help. Maybe a puzzle was a lame thing to do, but it would keep Frank's mind busy for a while, and Joe wasn't kidding about anything getting him out of the room being worth it. He'd do anything it took to keep Frank from falling back into the pit of guilt he was on the edge of, and he knew he wasn't alone in that.

They'd get through this all somehow. They _had_ to. That was just who they were.


End file.
